


Duplicity

by Never_Stray



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blank Period, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Espionage, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Romance, Seduction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26538109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Never_Stray/pseuds/Never_Stray
Summary: Five years after the war, Sakura joins an ANBU team in the Land of Stone to investigate a ruthless warlord for illicit trading. But playing courtesan and handler with Uchiha Sasuke proves challenging when they have yet to reconcile their tumultuous past. As the team uncovers details of a contract that threatens the peace between nations, Sakura discovers all is fair in love and espionage.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Original Male Character (minor), Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 263
Kudos: 490





	1. The Swallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the words of the great [diasterisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diasterisms/pseuds/diasterisms), this is the self-indulgent, romance/spy thriller I’ve always wanted to write, with ninja fights. I’m a sucker for a redemption arc, and my middle-school OTP will always have a piece of my heart :) This will be canon pre 699.  
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings will be in beginning chapter notes. 
> 
> 2/4/20: Added like 2 chapters worth to the first arc! The previous versious of chapters 1-8 can be found on my [Tumblr](https://never--stray.tumblr.com/post/642958246352715776/duplicity-original-version-index-2014) .

_One month ago:_

On the fifth anniversary of the Allied Forces victory, Sakura could not feel her right hand. Whoever invented charting, she decided, ought to be dragged before a military tribunal for their crimes against medic-nin.

She shoved her operative note into the patient’s folder. Twelve more. It was only midnight. She could do this. The rice balls that she’d packed for breakfast sang a stale siren’s song from the corner of her desk.

The workroom door swung open. A wizened man with bushy eyebrows and a fleshy nose sauntered in. His white coat was pressed and starched, still embossed with _Head Medic,_ a title he’d long relinquished.

She stifled a groan. “Welcome back, Honjo-sensei _.” When was he going to retire?_

“The cafeteria has dango tonight.” He set four trays onto his desk. “Are you still working on notes? I finished mine long ago.” With a flourish, he presented his notes: two patients with cough and one with pimples.

 _“_ My case ran late.” Sakura opened the next patient’s chart.

“I’m telling you, assistants slow you down. During the Third War, I did above-the-knees with _no_ help in less than two minutes—”

Honjo’s reedy voice faded into the background as Sakura read her incomplete note:

 _Uchiha Sasuke. Vision and transplant follow-up. Oct 1_ _ st _ _._

Sakura closed his chart. Sasuke missed his appointment again. This time, he hadn’t sent a note at all. Was he busy, or was he avoiding her?

“— lost a thumb but that was child’s play to reattach—”

After the war, Sasuke was tried and sentenced. The first year of his probation required him to accept any mission he was given, and the council had a great slew of assassinations for the Leaf’s deadliest asset. Naruto mentioned that things had eased up since he joined ANBU, but he still seemed  no less busy. Sakura couldn’t ask about it herself because, well…

Sasuke didn’t really talk with her.

“—are tricky. Now, do you remember what the most common cause of a cough is?”

Sakura realized Honjo was quizzing her. “Uh, post-nasal drip.”

He grinned. “See? You’re learning so much already. Aren’t you glad you have me all November?”

 _Dear gods._ Sakura raced to the bulletin board. 

**CHIEF MEDICS ON CALL**

July: Shizune **/** Haruno

Aug **:** Iou / Haruno

Sept **:** Sarutobi / Haruno

Oct: Honjo **/** Haruno

 _Still the summer schedule._ She breathed a sigh of relief and flipped through the old schedules out of curiosity. Haruno, Haruno, Haruno… Had she been on service for ten months straight?

A knock sounded at the door. “Haruno-sensei?” A man poked his head into the door— Yokaze, her apprentice. “I’m putting the fall schedule together. Are you unavailable any dates?”

“I told you to put her down for everything,” Honjo snapped. “She’s _always_ here.”

“Hey, I take missions,” she protested.

Honjo harrumphed. “To other hospitals. It’s a waste of resources, if you ask me. Any chunin would do.”

“I do other things too! I can fight.”

Honjo waved a hand. “You shouldn’t. Tsunade-chan giving you kids these crazy ideas. I remember when she couldn’t close a paper cut.”

Sakura opened her mouth to object and faltered. The last time she took a non-clinical mission was… Suna, last year, and even _that_ had been to retrieve poison samples. It felt like a distant dream that her greatest nemeses were once malignant tree-men and despotic celestials and not the stern-faced cafeteria lady who adhered to lunch hours with such militant vehemence that she refused to serve Sakura a single second past three, _even_ though the fryers were still _on—_

 _Oh dear._ Was she losing her edge?

“Medic-nin belong in the hospital in times of peace. Leave the dangerous stuff to the shinobi.” Honjo dug into another tray of dango. “Besides, why wou’ you wan’ to leave when you can sleeb in your own bed?” he asked, jowls quibbling.

Sakura eyed the stack of files on her desk, her musty white coats, roughly cuffed and stained with ink, and the old call schedules on the bulletin board.  Naruto was on sabbatical to Mount Myoboku, training senjutsu. Ino was with troops from Suna, quelling an insurrection in the Land of Silence. All her classmates were full-fledged jonin, taking missions abroad and seeing exotic lands that she only got to hear about when they limped into her waiting room, exhausted but bright-eyed.

Once, _she’d_ gotten to do that too. Things changed after she made Chief. The hospital sucked her into its whitewashed halls.

“You should smile more, Sakura-chan,” Honjo said cheerfully. “Boys get nervous when girls look too serious. That’s why you don’t have a boyfriend—”

Yokaze coughed. “Haruno-sensei?”

She _missed_ the burn of wind on her neck and chakra in her fists. The rush of impending battle in her blood. Sakura trashed her cold rice balls and slipped Sasuke’s file in her drawer. “Let me get back to you with those dates.” 

She had a Hokage to see.

* * *

_Present day:_

Sakura always wondered what the Intelligence Division spent their money on. Evidently, costumes. They’d packed her enough clothing to last a year of espionage. Sakura tottered to the village gates with a precarious stack of luggage in her arms.

She was to meet her teammates there— two ANBU jonins. Normally, Kakashi briefed deploying teams together, but the three of them had spectacularly conflicting schedules the past month. She only knew a handful of people in ANBU, and they tended to be the people she saw the least. Shino, maybe? He’d vanished off the radar the last few years. Most likely, they would be strangers; she wasn’t familiar with the other Academy classes. She’d have to make a good first impression.

Under the gates, she ground to a halt. Momentum sent the top-most suitcase off-kilter, sliding off the stack.

A stranger caught it.

Sakura’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she set everything down and bowed. “Hello! I’m Haruno Sakura.” 

The man loomed over her in ANBU fatigues: grey vest, bracers, and a sword jutting from his back. Black hair cut in careless layers framed his wolf mask, and his broad shoulders were bare, the left tattooed with the insignia of the village. His long legs tucked into a pair of cold-weather boots that looked like they’d seen some mileage. 

_Wow_.

She really needed to start dating again. “Looking forward to working together,” she mumbled.

“Sakura.” 

Even his _voice_ was nice… Sakura froze. _“Sasuke-kun?”_

He crossed his arms.

“You switched masks,” she said lamely. His hair had grown out too, but that was no excuse. Her pulse picked up. “I haven’t seen you in so long. How have you been?”

“Fine,” he said. “You?”

“Great! Just the usual at the hospital.” 

After the war, he’d dodged her for months. It wasn’t until she performed his arm transplant and accepted him on as a patient that they  rekindled their friendship. But their appointments were few and far between, and he made himself scarce, despite Naruto’s best efforts. 

If it weren’t for the souvenirs that he’d occasionally leave at her apartment— usually theory books or samples of poison— she would’ve wondered if they were still friends. But even those felt more like polite gifts for her care.

“I finished that scroll on herb cultivars from Grass.” _Last March._ “It was a great refresher. Thanks.”

“Sure.” 

They fell into silence. It was always like this when they were together. Sasuke didn’t  appear at all bothered by the distance between them, and Sakura had never worked up the courage to ask. So the months turned to years, and the chest of Memories They Shared But Did Not Speak Of settled deeper and deeper in the ground. A pang went through her. “It’s been so long,” Sakura said. “When was the last time we went on a mission—”

“Did you bring the poison?” he cut in. 

Before she could reply, a raccoon-masked man appeared in a puff of smoke. 

Sakura groaned. 

Sai nodded. “ _Taichou_. Sakura.” He was another recluse, but she saw _him_ more often than Sasuke, which was saying something given how busy Sai was with ANBU internal affairs. 

Sasuke picked up the luggage, and Sai pulled out his ink. Whatever animosity that lingered between the two of them after the war had dissipated into the wordless camaraderie of old teammates.

“Draw us a big one,” she said. 

His head canted. “Of course. I have to accommodate your massive, heavy—” Sakura rested a chakra-laden palm on his arm, smiling “—luggage.” 

With a hiss of tearing parchment, a great ink bird burst from his scroll. 

&-&-&

They lurched off the ground, brushed past the tree-tops of the forest, and ascended with each powerful beat of the ink-beast’s wings.

The Land of Stone was an insular nation nestled between Earth and Wind, bordered by formidable mountain ranges on all sides. Its population was small but diverse, a mixture of enterprising immigrants from the five nations and natives who maintained their ancient traditions. Sakura settled in for the long flight.

When they leveled off, the men removed their masks. Sakura allowed herself one cursory glance at Sasuke’s face. “Do I get an alias too?” she asked.

“Hag,” Sai suggested, unzipping his backpack.

After so many years, his insults slid off her back like a water off a duck. “You packed light.”

He shrugged. “No disguises.”

“You’re not going undercover?”

“I’m the support,” he said, as though it were obvious.

She supposed after twenty-odd years in covert operations, it was second nature to him. Meanwhile, she was still learning to use the lengthy list of espionage vocabulary ID had provided her with.

“You two are the plants,” he said.

Sakura flipped through the dossier one last time, reviewing the details:  Their mission target was Higa Masao, a leading member of the ring of weapons and mining oligarchs who had amassed billion- _ryo_ empires in the boom after the Fourth War. His reputation for fomenting bloodshed had earned him a colloquial title of warlord. “How long has ID been investigating this guy?”

“Hideo started right after the war.” Hideo was an ANBU chunin who’d lived undercover in Stone, building his reputation among the network of procurers. Five years without coming home. Sakura couldn’t imagine.

The air chilled around them and Sakura pulled on her cloak. They had cleared the forests and were sailing over straggly rocks of the Land of Earth.

The operation was part of a larger effort investigating the spike of violence in Iwa since the new Tsuchikage took power. A mole in their council reported that the two men were close allies. Sakura’s team was to infiltrate and gather hard evidence— grounds to terminate Konoha’s sizable contract with him before their image was dragged through the mud by association. 

“Questions?” Sasuke asked, when she closed the sheaf of paper.

She shook her head.  “This guy sounds like a treat.” Higa lived in seclusion, apart from a private security army of well-paid mercenaries and a revolving-door ensemble of female escorts. 

“Better hope he feels that way about you too.” Sai snapped fresh batteries into a two pair of wired mics and handed them to her. “One for you, one for the target.”

Sakura admired the thin wiring and how tiny mic was. ANBU  had all the newest stuff. “What do you mean?”

“Your legend.”

_Legend_ was a shinobi’s fake identity, crafted by the intelligence division. “I read it,” she said. “I’m playing a server.” Sakura’d memorized her documents to the letter— her birthday, village, and the name of the upscale restaurant where she used to work before seeking employment in Higa’s complex. 

Sai turned to her. “ _Former_ server. You’re the swallow.”

“What am I swallowing?” she asked.

“Like the bird,” Sasuke said sharply.

The term rang a bell. _S_ akura thought back to Anko’s training bootcamp from seven years ago that she’d taken with the other kunoichi preparing for the chunin exams. _Kunoichi are swallows; shinobi are ravens. Also called honey traps._

Higa’s sexual proclivities. Seeking employment. Realization sunk in. “I’m playing an escort.”

“A courtesan,” Sasuke said, his brows furrowed. “Kakashi didn’t tell you.”

Her visions of eavesdropping on Higa’s dinners while filling his glass with wine evaporated.  Out of all the para-ANBU missions in the stack, he’d had given her _this?_ With _them?_ Was she being bullied for her fervent and undying childhood crush, or was this retaliation for all the billing inquiries she made him review last month? “Oh no.”

“You did the training,” Sasuke said, with a hint of accusation. “Your name was listed in the registry.”

Well yeah. They _all_ completed the training. “It was for the chunin exams.” Suna’s examiners were notorious for covering niche topics, and certification after the training only required a written exam and a practical, during which she’d made a suggestive pass at a mannequin while Ino heckled her from the back of the classroom.

And a mannequin was not a living, breathing man.

What had Anko taught them?

 _Your body is a weapon, but sex is your last resort,_ she’d said. Cue the class breaking into giggles. _Charm him. Exploit his vulnerabilities. Make him_ want _to talk to you._ The Mitarashi Method— unironically named— was infallible if utilized properly; unfortunately, Sakura could only remember three steps off the top of her head.

“Better than nothing,” Sai said, at her reluctant admittance.

“How long before we arrive?” she asked.

“Not long.”

Sakura nodded. She was to present to his estate tonight, and her first contact with Higa was scheduled for tomorrow at noon. That gave her an evening to prepare. She had experience— _one man,_ her inner mind hissed— but one fumbling relationship was a well of carnal knowledge not. Sakura took a deep breath.

“I— uh— need a volunteer.”

“For what?” Sasuke asked.

She’d tackle this like she tackled big surgeries: plan ahead, ask for help, and— “Practice.”

Sai and Sasuke exchanged a slow glance.

Sakura steeled her resolve. She couldn’t back down now, and slink back to Honjo with her tail between her legs. She _would_ complete this mission, and prove that she was still a real kunoichi, if to no one but herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we begin! ♥️  
> Inspo:  
> [Honjo-sensei](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Liston)


	2. Fresh Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura practices; Sakura attends a garden party.

Sakura's team landed in Kuzu, a small village near the warlord’s estate.  Her burst of confidence in the sky waned as they descended and fizzled out altogether when they stepped into Sai’s inn room.  At the small table, he spread his ink bottles and scrolls.

 _Would you prefer me?_ he’d asked, after cheerfully nominating Sasuke. They were dear friends. The idea of touching him like _that_ was unsettling, to say the least. Revolting, he’d say, if she asked.  But Sasuke was… _Sasuke._

_“_ Are you going to watch?” she asked.

Sai’s brush paused. “I can leave.” 

“Stay.” Sasuke carried her luggage to the corner of the room and walked to the couch with all the enthusiasm of a man climbing his execution scaffold.

She followed him, and a nervous giggle bubbled forth at the absurdity of everything. “Are you sure?” 

“It’s fine.”

This would’ve been easier with a stranger. She cleared her throat. “I’m going to start.” 

He shot her a long-suffered look. _Get on with it,_ it seemed to say.

She was eye-level with where his shirt stretched between the hard contours of his chest. He was much too tall. She pressed him into a seated position. “I’m going to—uh— get on.” She cringed. _Well said_ _.  
_  
Sasuke was attempting to bore a hole through her skull with his eyes, so she did. The contrast of his powerful body against hers made her breath catch. They had been the same size as children, but no more. A pleasant woodsy scent, redolent of rain, emanated from him; he always smelled nice at their appointments. “I’m going to—”

“Stop talking.” 

Cautiously, she grazed her lips against the corner of his jaw, his skin warm and unexpectedly prickly. It hadn’t occurred to her that he had to shave. When she threaded her fingers through his hair, he went stock still. 

“Was that bad?” She drew back.

Pitch black eyes fixed on her lips. “Hurry up.”

“Sorry,” she said, willing her pulse too slow. _It was just a kiss it was just a kiss—_ Sakura screwed her eyes shut, bumped a little into his nose, and… found her target, his lips _soft_ against hers. Her eyes fluttered open. His were closed, so she did it again, and it felt warm and nice _,_ like she could melt into him, and curiosity demanded her to cup his jaw, coax his lips to part— 

Sasuke shoved her off. “Enough.” 

Sakura blinked. “How was that?” Her voice was huskier  than intended. 

He straightened his clothes. “Don’t hesitate. You’re overthinking.” His hoarse tone was so impassive, she wanted to shake him. 

“Can you taste it?” she asked. 

He looked at her. “Taste what?”

“The poison,” she said, startled by how expanded his pupils were. That wasn’t right. She checked his wrist pulse: elevated. Wasn’t right either. Was he immune to this one too?

“What pois—” 

His pulse dropped. Sasuke slumped against the couch. 

_It worked!_

“Sorry I didn’t warn you. I wanted to see if you’d catch me.” She was a little surprised he hadn’t, when she’d taken so long at the crook of his neck to dab the tincture inside her lips. “It feels like getting in a hot tub after a long run, huh?” She sampled all her poisons to build tolerance. 

He glared at her, pupils pinpoint. 

_Oh._ He couldn’t talk.

Sakura drew chakra to her hand. The muscle fibers of his forearm twitched back to life under the black kana of his seal. “You gave me this one three years ago, after your came back from Suna. ” She dug the little crystal vial out from her pocket and smiled brightly. It was quite rare, a favorite in her collection. She passed her palm down the major muscle groups: chest, stomach, thighs—

Sasuke snatched her wrist. “What are you _doing?_ ” he hissed.

“R-reversing it.”

“Leave it.”

“What? No.” He couldn’t walk. “It’ll take a second.” 

He released her hand but watched it as though she were wielding a razor, and not healing chakra. As soon as she finished, he stalked across the room, dug through his luggage, and slammed the bathroom door shut.

Sakura winced.

“Excellent,” Sai said. At the table, he painted surveillance mice, adding to the small army assembled at his feet. “I thought we’d have to turn back.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said, although she did feel a little better. “How long do these missions usually take?”

“Sometimes a few days. Sometimes a few months.” Sai shrugged. “Depends on the swallow.” 

_“_ I see,” she said, wishing that she hadn’t asked. “Is _henge_ always forbidden?”

“Usually. The big targets like Higa hire sensor-type nin to detect imposters.”

_Sensor-nin._ Before Ino’s current stint with the Barrier team, she had a brief but accoladed career with ID. Ino could do this mission in her sleep, and heck if Sakura was going to let her best friend one-up her without a fight.

The bathroom door swung open. Sasuke’s collar-length hair was cropped above his ears, the shortest she’d ever seen it. He flung the scissors across the room where they wedged, blade side down, between two bracers in his luggage.

“What?” he snapped, running his hand through hair that wasn’t there. 

Sakura closed her mouth.“You look so…” The style bared his face from temple to jaw. He looked older, and a little mean. “… different.” 

“That’s the point,” he said.

When he walked by, she spotted a small tuft of hair he missed. The petty detail brought her comfort, that despite his perfect appearance, he was human too. “I like it.” 

“Let’s go over the plan.”

* * *

The warlord's estate sprawled over two square acres of tundra, encircled by a wall of cypress trees. Sakura followed the gatekeeper along the central waterway, lined with lush gardens of night jasmine and spay rose in startling bloom. They passed a three-tiered stone fountain, gurgling in the torchlight despite the arid climate. 

“Where does the water come from?” Sakura asked. 

“Runoff from the snowcaps,” the gatekeeper said. He pointed to the western horizon, where a mountain range loomed tall. “The Six Sisters.” 

She counted. “But there’s five peaks.”

“Can’t see the Little Sister from here.” His lips twisted under the beard, and he turned to Sasuke, following them at a distance. “Where did you bring her from? Fire?”

“Earth.”

“I’m from a small village,” she said quickly, ignoring how displeased he managed to sound with a single word.

The main compound stood behind the fountain, an angular structure of alabaster limestone. The foyer was bustling with activity. Footmen and servers carried out armloads of glassware, tables, and torches in preparation for what appeared to be a garden party. 

According to the briefing documents, Higa hosted private events limited to his clients and their guests. Courtesans were strictly forbidden from attending, as well as private guards— Higa’s security were the only shinobi permitted on the estate.

A man wearing a high-collared robe orchestrated the servants. At their arrival, he turned. 

Sasuke inclined his head. “Ito Kyouya, procurer,” he said. “This is Tachibana Nanami.” 

Sakura bowed. “A pleasure to meet you.” 

The man did not bow. “I’m Tanaka Jun, the butler.” He looked to be in his fifties, with broad shoulders and an ample belly. “Do you two have identification?”

Sasuke handed him the falsified documents. 

He read through and passed them back. “I apologize for the short notice, but Higa-sama had a work meeting come up for tomorrow. We’ve had to cancel your lunch.” 

Relief blossomed in her chest. More time to prepare. She could scope out the estate and plant a mic in his room, while he was away—

“He’d like to meet you tonight. It’s a small event for his friends.” He didn’t extend the invitation to Sasuke.

Sakura willed herself to smile. “Splendid.”

“We’ll collect you when it’s time.”

A bellboy led her up the stairs, and her heart fluttered when she passed Sasuke. She hadn’t been that physically close with anyone in a long time. Sasuke’s face was an impassive mask of professionalism. Of course it was. That’s how he’d made captain so quickly. _She_ was the one getting flustered over a kiss.

She wanted a real mission. Now she had one. Time to focus.

They walked past a long hallway of heavy doors, each marked with a female name. At the one labeled _Nanami,_ she stopped him.

_“_ This is me.”

When the door swung shut behind the bellboy, Sakura searched the room. Recorders and mics were military tools, but who knew what sort of resources Higa had access to with his wealth? 

She checked under the plush bed, footed by two wooden posts carved with twisting phoenixes. She checked the bathroom, around the footed tub. She checked inside the sconces, the drawers, and behind the mirror of the blue-lacquered vanity. 

“Room’s clean,” she said to the mic tucked in her dress. Hopefully, Sai found reception on the roof. “I’m on the third floor of the northern wing in the corner suite.” 

Sakura pinned her shoulder-length hair into a twist, following the drawing provided in her briefing documents.  T he Chief of Disguise , the mastermind behind their costumes, and worked  undercover for fifteen years as an informant in Iwagakure’s council. Sakura’s embroidered white dress, she’d assured her, was the local style for a young woman,

Sakura opened her trunk. Inside, there was a bag of cosmetics in bold and terrifying shades, and no accompanying instructions. Sakura zipped it back. The second recorder— Higa’s— she strapped her thigh, and the senbon she slipped into the hollow heel of her sandals. She closed her trunk just as a knock sounded at her door.

“Starting,” she whispered to the mic.

* * *

A blazing fire pit and mounted torches illuminated the garden, banishing the chill of the evening. Muted conversation carried over the snapping of firewood. Sakura scanned the crowd for blond hair. 

_Black, brown, black…_

She counted two dozen guests. Fashion in Stone was quite distinct from Fire. The women wore vibrant skirts and heavy gold jewelry, and the men wore brimless, embroidered caps over close cropped hair. _Explains the haircut._

Sakura wandered over to the long refreshment table before a long, jasmine-entwined trellis. A lone woman perused the bottles. "Good evening.” Sakura bowed.

“Good evening.” Her hair was pulled to a gloss twist at the nape of her neck, and she smelled of roses and myrrh. Her gaze flitted to Sakura's unadorned neck and ringless fingers. “We’ve not met. You are new hire?"

“Just started,” Sakura said. _Not untrue._

“You must be excited. We have celebratory drink?”

Sakura paused. She’d need her wits about her. “I’m not a big drinker.”

“Come, come, a drink on his coin.” The woman motioned at a crystal decanter and the waiter filled two stout glasses with a finger of a dark gold spirit. “Single malt whisky from Barley. Distiller makes ten barrels a year only. Smell it.” 

Sakura took the glass and did as she was bid. It smelled sinfully expensive, although of what, she couldn’t say. 

“Jasmine, cinnamon and red apple,” the woman supplied. “Now taste.”

Sakura took the tiniest of sips. The alcohol chapped her lips. 

The woman nodded eagerly. “Good? Good? Do you taste? Sugar plum and tobacco leaf,” she declared.

“Very good. Are you in the whisky industry?”

“Oh, my dream. We come together, but my husband—” she gestured across the garden, where two men stood embroiled in conversation “— likes to talk. So I drink.” 

The taller of the pair had his back to her, his curling blond hair grazing his collar. _Blond._ “It was lovely to meet you,” Sakura said, setting the her glass down. “Please enjoy your evening.” 

&-&-&

“Found him,” Sakura whispered.

The warlord faced the woman’s husband— a gentleman with tawny skin and a fry-pan flat face, speaking in heated tones.  S he recalled that distant lesson. 

“ _Step one!” Anko rapped the blackboard. “Establish vulnerability. Introduce yourself in a compromising situation to disarm the target. Give him the illusion of control. Make him think he’s got the upper-hand.”_

This was it.

“— can’t _do this!_ That’s forty million off of our bottom line—”

Sakura swept past Higa and rammed her shoulder into the surly man, splattering his drink all over their clothes.

“Hey! _Fuck!_ ” He tented his ruined robe off his chest.

“I— I’m so sorry _,”_ Sakura said. “I didn’t mean to.” She accepted a napkin off a server. “Here let me—”

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled. He threw his glass on the grass and stomped towards his wife, who hurriedly drained her glass.

“Oh no,” Sakura said. “I think I’ve ruined his jacket.” The weight of the warlord's gaze was as palpable as a heavy palm. 

“If anything, his jacket ruined the whisky.” His intonation betrayed a hint of an eastern accent.

Sakura turned. Higa Masao had an angular face with a proud nose and the shadows of a beard dusting his jaw. He looked far too young to have supplied Konoha with forbidden scrolls since the Sandaime's leadership. “Have you tried it?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

He offered her his glass. When she hesitated, he took a sip. “Not poisoned.” 

He offered it again, and Sakura accepted, willing her eyes not to water. “Sugar plum and tobacco leaf.” It tasted like surgical prep to her, but judging by the way Higa’s face lit up, he didn’t agree.

“Very good,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Tachibana Nanami. Pleased to meet you.” 

“Are you Hideo’s?”

“Yes.” 

His grey eyes flitted over her, stopping at her hair. "This color is uncommon.” 

He ran a hand through her updo, unraveling her efforts. The hairpins clicked against the tiles, as he twisted her hair around his fingers. If the other guests noticed, they made sure to advert their gaze. His arm snaked around her waist, and his mouth lowered to hers. 

Sakura recoiled.

His brows rose.

_Oops._ “Sorry," she stammered, without pretending. “Just a bit nervous. I’ve never done this before.”

He looked at her wringing hands and deliberated . “Come to my room at midnight. Tell the footman. He’ll bring you.” 

_Tonight? Already?_

A cold pit settled into her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Meg Thee Stallion for her incredible Sasuke ref which reminded me to finish this fic.  
> Inspo:  
> [garden](https://irandoostan.com/dostcont/uploads/2018/07/Travel-to-Iran-Tours-to-Iran-Fin-Garden-10.jpg)


	3. Fragile Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura faces a decision; Sasuke faces his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C/W: Recreational drug use

At midnight, Sakura followed the attendant up two flights and a blur of hallways, until finally, an ornate double door. There was a telltale shimmer of genjutsu on the wall, with chakra- and sound- dampening seals. 

Sakura walked into the dark foyer of a master suite. Voices and light spilled out from around the partitioning wall. The air was thick with the smell of sake and tobacco. The door to the corner room was closed…

She looked around: no guards. This was the perfect chance.

Quietly, she slipped inside. Oak desk piled with papers. Bookshelves. Three briefcases on the ground. His study! 

_Perfect._ Sakura unstrapped the mic from her thigh and glanced around the room. Now, where to hide it… She was hunting for suitable nook on the bookshelf when a muffled scream made her blood run cold. 

_What was that?_

Heart pounding, she crammed the mic behind the top corner of the shelf and Sakura dropped to the ground. On instinct, her hand reached for her weapons pouch, found the cotton waistband of her dress. 

It came from behind the wall. Sakura snuck out of the office, around the wall, and through the door left ajar.

Higa’s bedroom was a cavernous space the size of throne room, lit thoroughly with lamps. Dozens of open bottles littered the oak console table, and smoking ashtrays the bedside tables. An enormous bed stood in the middle of the room, wreathed with scattered sandals and discarded dresses, and on top were a tangle of limbs, fingers and toes in all direction. 

_Oh._ That explained the whimpers.

“Someone’s here, Higa-sama,” said the woman facing the door. 

“Hi,” Sakura said.

Higa twisted, his back slick with sweat. “Who are you?” he panted.

“Nanami. We met earlier at your party.” Sakura inched forward. Something was wrong with his breathing— deep, gulping breaths, like he was starving for air. “Are you feeling alright?”

Another shuddering breath. “Been better.”

The cloying smell— it clicked. Sakura’s eyes darted to the ashtray where a thick roll of pungent herb smoldered. _Dry as a bone, hot as a hare, blind as a bat and red as a beet._ It didn't take an apprenticeship with Tsunade-sama to put two and two together. 

Higa collapsed onto the sheets. 

The woman underneath him scrambled out and put her fingers against his nose. “H-he’s not breathing. What do we do?” 

They all stared at each other. Cold sweat broke over Sakura’s neck. If she helped him, ID’s legend was out the window— Nanami was a former server with no medical abilities. But if she did nothing, Higa could die. At the end of an exhale, Sakura said, “Ask the attendant for calabar seed and water. Close the door.“

They dressed and scrambled out. Sakura carried Higa to the floor. The pulse at his wrist was feeble. She hadn't performed compressions since she was thirteen, but she couldn't risk him waking up with her chakra-laden palms on his chest. Her own chest burned with exertion. Luckily, her mic was secure.

_One-and-two-and-three-and-four—_

A man in a white coat burst in with Tanaka at his heels.

“Get off of him,” the medic-nin said, palms glowing with chakra. In minutes, Higa was moving again. “How long was he down?” 

“Maybe ten minutes?” 

His head snapped to her. “You asked for calabar seed. How did you know?”

Before she could respond, Tanaka was tugging her out into the dark foyer. “You should wait in your room. It usually takes him a while to wake up.”

She nodded, grateful for the reprieve. 

_Awake._ A tight knot wound in her chest.

* * *

Sasuke was going to wring Kakashi’s neck. He should’ve done it long ago, when he assigned him to Sai’s platoon, knowing damn well he preferred working solo, or when he made those useless wellness evaluations mandatory for deployment, but this was the last straw.

The recorder crackled to life with her voice. _“I’m back.”_

“I’ll go,” he said to Sai, who was equally to blame. After he was appointed deputy chief, their old team was disbanded. The final roster for Sasuke’s own platoon was prepared— had been for weeks now— but Sai insisted on tradition: _all first-time captains must be evaluated by their former._ Which was fine, except scheduling a joint mission turned out to be a pain in the neck, between Sai’s new administrative duties and Sasuke’s prior commitments to months-long, deep-cover assassinations. 

They’d settled for this— an easy espionage. In and out in a week. 

Until Kakashi had thrown a wrench in their plans in the form of one Haruno Sakura.

Sasuke took a steadying breath and climbed through her window. 

Sakura whirled to him. She blurted out, “It’s over. His medic-nin knows, and his butler knows.” 

His boots hit the ground. “Tell me what happened.” 

Her suite was bigger than his. Sakura paced around the bed like a caged animal, speaking in shuddering breaths, winding a lock of hair tight around her finger. She kept throwing out words he didn’t understand.

“What?” 

“ _Kokova_ is narcotic that’s popular in northern Wind,” she explained. “Calabar seed is the antidote.”

_Oh._ “Will it loosen his tongue?”

“Sure, right before it stops his heart.” She groaned. “If you didn’t know, how would a server know?”

“You saved him,” he guessed.

She nodded miserably. “When he stopped breathing, it was— it was like muscle memory. I couldn’t just watch. But now his medic knows and he’ll tell them. What do I do?” Distressed green eyes turned to him.

Seeing her scared made him want to kill something. “You didn’t use chakra.”

“No.”

“Do they know you’re a medic-nin?”

“I don’t think so, but they’ll be suspicious. Servers don’t know antidotes. It doesn’t fit the story.” She was going to light the carpet on fire if she paced any faster.

“So come up with something else.” Not ideal, but few missions went exactly according to plan. Their best shot at avoiding blowback was to make the best of the situation. “Did you plant the mic?” 

She nodded.

“Then it’s fine.”

Sakura stopped dead in her tracks. “Y-you aren’t upset?”

“Why would I be?” 

“Because—” She bit her lip and looked away.

His stomach twisted. _Because she’s afraid of you,_ said a voice in his head. She’d probably hoped for Sai, coming through her window. Sai set her at ease. “I’m not.” 

She looked relieved, if still glum. “Maybe Honjo-sensei was right.” 

“Who?”

“A medic I work with. He said it was reckless for me to go on missions. That I belong in the village, caring for patients.”

“He’s an idiot.” 

_“Sasuke-kun,”_ she chided. “He was head medic.” 

He shrugged. Still an idiot.

To his relief, Sakura sank into the chair. “Earlier, you said I was a courtesan and not an escort. What’s the difference?”

He’d forgotten this was her first time in Stone. “Courtesans are trained professionals. Escorts are brothel workers.” 

“How long does training take?”

Sasuke thought back. It’d been a while since he’d done one of these too. “Longest we’ve said was a year.” 

“And procurers?”

“They work as agents. The women pay them to find new clients.”

“But it’s not an equal relationship.”

“No.” 

Sakura nodded slowly. “I think I have an idea.” She offered him a shy smile that made him want to dive out the window. “You two must be used to this. Thanks for helping me, especially back at the inn.”

That was a huge mistake. If he could go back, he would’ve ordered Sai to do it.

“It must’ve been weird for you, doing that with— with me.” 

Was she embarrassed? He wasn’t delusional enough to think she was still interested in him. Whatever remaining vestiges of her schoolgirl crush were swept away at the Valley of the End. He’d made sure of it when he drove a fist through her chest, and if there was any lingering doubt after, Kakashi took care of it.

_She nearly lost her life to you. She cries every time she thinks of you. She_ _doesn’t love you that way_ _, Sasuke. She just wants to save you._

“Can I ask you something?”

_Don’t._

Sakura closed the distance between them. “I know a lot has happened, and we don’t— we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I feel like we’re drifting apart. Is something wrong?”

She was right up in his face, and he could smell her hair. A hammer started in his chest.

He knew what Kakashi wanted, why he kept assigning him to solo missions escorting Sakura out of the village. They were bullshit assignments, and Kakashi knew it,  but every time Sasuke slapped  the transfer request on his desk, he still managed to look disappointed. It wouldn’t work. Five years was too long to apologize.

“Don’t read into things,” he said. “There’s nothing between us.” He should’ve tried harder to string the words together back then, but he was delirious with blood loss.

Sakura went stock still. “Nothing?”

The tremor in her voice made his chest squeeze.

“Are you firing me?” Sakura asked.

The damned war. If he never lost his arm, never awakened the Rinnegan, he wouldn’t need a medic-nin. Five hundred and twenty of them in the whole village, and the only one capable of managing his symptoms was Sakura. “No,” he muttered.

“Oh, good,” she  said dryly.

He didn't return her wry smile. Kakashi and Naruto didn’t understand. He’d put her through the worst years of her life. She had a career, friends, and plenty of male attention. She didn't need him. Sasuke would find another medic. It was the least he could do. Probation forbade him from leaving the village except for missions, but once he was leading his own platoon, he’d have complete autonomy over where they were deployed. There had to be someone else abroad.

Once he severed this tie, he’d disentangle himself from her life entirely. After some years, she’d remember him as nothing more than a distant figure of the past, and they’d both have their long-due peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspo:  
> [ _kokova_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atropa_belladonna)


	4. Window Dressing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura negotiates a deal; the team uncovers a plot. Sakura picks up a sword.

“My medic says I owe you my life.” Higa contemplated her quietly from across the room. He’d showered and changed into a dressing robe.

Sakura stood by the door. ”It was him. You don’t owe me anything.” 

The morning sun filtered in through shimmering curtains, illuminating details of his bedroom she had not picked up last night. On the wall, a mounted katana caught her eye— two and a half feet of tempered blue steel with a dragon-hilt to match. An heirloom or a real weapon? The dossier didn’t mention any physical abilities of note. 

"You've received instruction." It wasn't a question. 

“I work at my grandmother’s apothecary. She taught me about the different herbs we stock and some basic treatments. I think she wants me to take over.” 

Higa raised a brow. “This was hardly an illness.” 

“We’re located in a small leisure town. There’s a pleasure district that’s quite popular with traveling shinobi.”

“Did you grow bored with your lessons? Sneak away in the night to go play with those men?” The smirk in his tone set tension to her jaw. 

“This is my first time doing anything like this,” she said. He’s see right through her if she claimed anything else. “I’ve worked in the shop since I was a girl. Every night after work, I walk home through the lights, the music. It was a whole other world. And the women looked so glamorous and seductive. I just— I wanted to know what it’d be like.” 

“You found a madam?”

_An instructor._ “Yes.”

Higa digested her words. “Who am I to deny an enterprising spirit?” He untied the cloth belt of his robe with deft fingers. 

His athletic frame unsettled her, far from the softness she would expect of a businessman. His skin was unmarked, but scars could be healed, as Sakura knew all too well. A small tattoo marked the edge of his clavicle, but parts of it were smudged, as though he’d tried to have covered. _A clan insignia? A village affiliation?_

He undid his trousers. 

“Wait, right now?” she squeaked. He’d _just_ recovered. “Don’t you want to talk more first?” 

“Not at all.” He rummaged through his bedside table and produced a bottle of lubricant. “I’ll need an hour. You may go after.” 

Did he only interact with the courtesans during sex? She’d expected otherwise, considering they lived with him. But this was far too soon. She needed leverage... A half-baked plan formed. “No.”

“No?”  
“I’d like to talk more first,” she said. 

He loomed over her, smelling like oak and spice cologne— a strike against _shinobi_. 

“In case you’ve forgotten, _Nanami_ , this is a business transaction. I give you gold, and in exchange, you allow me to do what I please between your thighs per our negotiations. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” 

“I haven’t forgotten. But in light of the circumstances, I think there are grounds to renegotiate terms.” 

He raised a brow. “I thought I didn’t owe you?” 

“I revoke my statement,” Sakura said stiffly. 

Higa retied his robe and poured himself a measure of sake at the console table. Sakura bit back a cringe. _Who drank this early?_ “State your terms.” 

She hadn’t quite thought this far. _Please hand over a detailed summary of your assets, investments, and illicit contacts. Thanks._

“Uh, we get to know each other first. Before—” her eyes darted to his bed “—before that. And no orgies. For me that is,” she added hastily. 

“No orgies for you.” The timbre of his voice took on an edge. “Tell me the truth. Why are you here? You could have simply demanded payment and gone home. Don’t lie to me again about the glamorous hookers.” 

_Why_ hadn’t she stayed in the hospital? 

“Your company," Sakura said, palms slick. “I’ve heard about your success all my life. I want to know what it takes to make it as far as you have, at such a young age." 

“Did your procurer tell you to say that?”

She shook her head. “I’ve heard you have mineral and scroll holdings around the world.”

”I’d be a fool to believe that you're here to sate a passing curiosity. Fools don't fare well in business." 

“That’s a self-fulfilling prophecy,” she pointed out. “If you doubt the intentions of everyone around you, you’ll drive the well-intended away.” Sakura stopped. _Too far?_

”How impetuous.” He leered at her over the rim of his cup. “Alright. I accept your terms. Two weeks, at our negotiated rate.” 

Sakura considered haggling for longer, but she was pushing her luck as it was. “Thank you, Higa-sama—” 

"Masao."

"Masao,” she said.

A predatory smile consumed his face. "Have you ever watched a bout?” 

* * *

When she returned to her room, there was a russet hawk perched outside her window. Sakura took the message: _Meet us at the NW corner of the roof— S._ “Thanks.”

The hawk waited, yellow eyes darting around the room.

“No chicken today, sorry. Ow— hey!”

He pecked her hand and, with a _chwirk_ of utter betrayal, sailed pompously out the window. She’d spoiled that thing rotten.

Sakura shoved her boots on, and in short steps, scaled up the complex walls.The roof was deserted, covered in leaves and dotted with ventilation fans.

She spotted a faint shimmer, and the air split around a disembodied arm, waving at her. Inside the genjutsu tent, Sasuke and Sai stood with radios in hand. “I thought Higa had chakra-seals up?”

Sai gestured at Sasuke. “He found a dead spot.”

What couldn’t his _sharingan_ do? Sasuke stiffened as soon as she approached. _Good._ He’d never been a poet, but his words in her room stung. “Your hawk was kind of grumpy.” _Just like his master._

“Stop feeding him.”

“I’m not,” she lied. “Did you guys catch what Higa said about the dojo? I think he might have some combat training. There was a sword in his bedroom, and he has a weird tattoo on his ribs.” Sakura drew it on Sai’s scroll.

“Never seen it,” Sasuke said.

Sai shook his head. “You got him naked in three hours, hag. That’s a record.”

“ _Sai!”_

“You should join—”

 _Zzzt!_ The recorder in Sasuke’s hand crackled to life.

 _“—For heaven’s sake, it’s only noon.”_ A low female voice was barely audible over the ambient sizzle.

Sasuke turned the volume all the way up, amplifying the static. “Where’d you hide the mic?”

“Behind the bookcase _mm_ —” Sai pressed a hand over her mouth.

_“It’s half past twelve and we have reason to celebrate.”_ Higa sounded cheerful. _“You read my proposal?”_

“Keep it away from the wall next time,” Sasuke said, as Sakura swatted Sai off.

“ _Your offer is generous, but… the eighteenth? Did you mean of next year?_

_“I meant upcoming.”_

_“I can be quick, but I’m not a god. That area is completely undeveloped. I’ll have to build roads, power lines, not to mention the mine itself. The crew have to prospect before they can begin excavating. You want me to move a mountain in a week?”_ the woman said. 

_“You don’t have to. It’s done.”_

_“What?”_

_“Perhaps I was impatient,”_ he said.

_“Shinobi again? How do you work with those savages? Why, one false step, and you could find yourself burnt to a crisp! Frozen solid!”_

_“One right step, and a mountain pass is carved in a day.”_

That required a powerful Earth-style technique. He’d most likely contracted jonin from Iwa.

_“How many did you hire? My crew needs security. You know the stories about that region.”_

_“What? The Scorpion? It’s a ghost tale, Kaede. Written to dissuade men from seeking their fortunes in the mountains.”_

Sai and Sasuke exchanged a look.

The radio struggled with interference for a few minutes and returned with the woman’s voice. 

_“— What if they refuse?”_

_“They won’t. They want it more than we do. Soon, they’ll be at each other’s throats for the biggest share.”_

_“Which village are you considering?”_

_“Oh, all of them,”_ he said.

Sakura frowned. Well, one thing was clear— the Intelligence Division’s fears were not unfounded. Higa was up to something big. “What’s the Scorpion?” she asked.

“He worked with Kazuzu. Wanted for weapons trading and inciting mass casualties.” Sasuke said. “Ask Kankuro if they know more.”

Sai nodded. 

Sakura shuddered at the memory of Kazuzu— the undead bookkeeper, sewn together with his _Earth Grudge_ techniques and five hearts. It’d destroyed Ino to lose her sensei, while Shikamaru plunged into a fleeting darkness, intent on destroying the Akatsuki.  That Sasuke had once affiliated with those terrifying criminals was unfathomable. Had he worked with Kazuzu? 

Sakura met Sasuke’s blank expression. “What do you think the mine is for?”

He shared a cryptic look with Sai, who nodded.

“What?” She hated it when they did this. 

“There’s a folk tale of a mountain in northwestern Stone that’s filled with a legendary ore,” Sai said. “Developers  have been sending scouts in for  years, but no one's made it back alive.”  He turned to Sasuke. “See? It’s a good thing we came.”

With any value to the ore, Higa’s mine would draw enterprising mercenaries like sharks to blood in the water. With Konoha’s money bankrolling the whole venture.

“It didn’t need to be us with _her,_ ” Sasuke said.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” He was so encouraging last night.

Sasuke flicked off the mics.

* * *

The dojo was located near the center of the complex; sunlight streamed between sliding doors from the courtyard. Dense, tatami mats padded the floors and a large sparring area was raised half a foot off the ground. On one wall, an assortment of blades— katanas, broadswords, _tanto_ — to rival the Academy’s collection hung. Unlike the worn and chipped student equipment, Higa's were leather-handled and sharpened to a mirror's edge. 

On the platform, Higa faced his opponent, a stern-looking fellow with arms like hammocks. Both wore black robes, chest guards, and rashers. He brandished a sword, one and one half arms-length with a tempered edge. Definitely not a practice sword. Definitely capable of hacking through a measly inch of leather and freeing some entrails. 

"I thought some exercise was in order," he said. For a man brought back from the brink not twelve hours ago, he looked quite vigorous.

The two men fell onto one another, a flurry of limbs and steel. Higa moved with unexpected agility; clearly, he had earned his physique. Minutes turned to hours.

"Nanami.” Higa wiped his brow. “Where has your mind wandered?” 

She glanced around. They were alone in the dojo. “I was watching. You're skilled." 

“I thought this was your first time at a bout.”

“It is.” She smiled. 

He shrugged off his leather vest. Underneath, his cotton shirt was damp with sweat. "Would you like to try?" 

Sakura swallowed. "Sword-fighting? I’m not an athlete.”

“Try.” 

“I-I’m not dressed for it.” 

Higa's eyes flitted to her loose dress. “Come here.” 

Sakura’s heart was in her throat. What was going on? He said he accepted her terms. Was this a test?

At her inaction, his expression flattened. “Or perhaps I should send a team of Iwa-nin to that leisure town? I’m sure they’d bring your store some excellent business.” 

Oh, it _was_ a test. 

Fine, she could pretend. Sakura stepped onto the raised sparring area. Higa offered her a matching sword, blade down. “It’s so heavy,” Sakura said. 

“Thumb flush to the guard.” 

It’d been nearly a decade since she’d graduated Academy, which was the last time she’d held a sword, except Sasuke’s. Sakura turned the guard to the inside of her wrist, the way that incensed Iruka. _Pronate, pronate, pronate!_

"Turn the guard out more." Higa’s voice ghosted along her neck as he circled her. “Widen your stance." A foot slid between her legs to guide her into a squat. 

His sword was unsheathed. 

“Now, parries.” His hand wrapped around her right wrist. “One—” he adducted her arm, an outside block “—two—” swinging her wrist in, an inside block “—three.” He raised her arm high, an overhead block.

“This is hard,” she said.

He faced her in an offensive stance. “You’ll get it.” 

Without warning, he lunged. The sword sliced through the air, too quick for a novice to parry. Sakura stumbled, and the blade missed by inches. She stared up at him. Grey eyes met hers with a touch of surprise.

Had he intended to test her or kill her? 

"What are you doing?” a voice growled from the entryway. 

Sasuke swept into the room like a storm. He'd traded his mask and vest for fitted black trousers and a loose tunic that covered his ANBU tattoo. Bindings wound up his thick forearms, concealing summoning seals on the right and the council's penitentiary seal on the left. From his waist, Kusanagi hung in its enamel sheath. He was a promise of death on legs...

... who _should_ have been keeping a low profile. 

He stepped onto the platform and hauled her to her feet. Pitch black eyes scanned her for injuries before flicking to Higa. For a second, she could have sworn they gleamed red. 

Higa frowned. “Who are you? How did you get in?” 

Tanaka hurried to the side of the platform. “This is Ito Kyouya. Nanami is one of his courtesans.” 

“I see.” Higa’s gaze lingered on the forty-inch sword at his waist. “If she hasn’t informed you, we signed a contract. What she and I do the next two weeks is none of your concern.” 

“Her safety is my responsibility." 

"Fulfilling my desires is _her_ responsibility.”

"This isn't a toy.” Sasuke seized the sword. “Indulge your battle fantasies with someone else.” 

“Or what?” Higa sneered. “What will you do, young procurer? Terminate our contract? You’ll never find a wealthier client. You’re lucky Hideo put in a word for you as it is.”

When was the last time someone had spoken to Sasuke so callously? A nightmarish vision of the warlord's complex burnt to its foundations and its owner at the center of the pyre flashed before her eyes. ”Ito-san,” she said. “It’s fine. I’m not hurt.” 

Higa could never strike her, but if Sasuke decided to draw _his_ sword, no force on Earth could keep Higa’s head on his shoulders. She wasn’t about to let him throw five years of probation away over petty posturing. 

She glanced pointedly at the door. _Leave. Go._

Stiffly, Sasuke turned to Higa. “That was impudent of me.” 

Sakura wrestled sword from Sasuke with great effort. “Shall we continue?”

Higa’s lips spread in a slow smirk. “You heard her.”

Sasuke’s eyes burned like coal, but he stepped off the platform. As soon as Sasuke was gone, Higa collected her sword. “Perhaps that was cruel of me.” 

“You don’t want to practice?”

“I’m tired,” he said. He hung them on the storage rack. “Your procurer is quite...”

“Hot-headed?” He was doing that to provoke Sasuke?

“Not the word I had in mind.” 

“He’s just cautious. He’s lost a previous courtesan before.”

“Hm, that is a poor investment.” Luckily, Higa didn't press the issue. " I have business to attend to. Jun will return you to your rooms. I'll see you Friday night, Nanami." 


	5. Lethal Dose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura plays a game, defenestrates Sasuke, and goes on a date.

Despite the whirlwind onset of her mission, much of espionage, Sakura found, was simply _waiting_ for conversations to happen. Life at the estate was unsettlingly peaceful. Aside from the house staff who delivered her meals, Sai’s nightly check-ins, and the rotating security staff, Sakura saw not hair nor hide of another person. Higa, despite his promise of two weeks, never asked for her again; he either lost interest or forgot her altogether.

Which wouldn’t do.

On the third day of radio silence, Sakura took mattered into her own hands.

When his carriage returned, she ran to the third floor of the southern wing. His footsteps rounded the corner, and she pretended to examine a porcelain dragon vase.

“Warring States Era.” Higa wore formal robes and carried a silk-lined scroll, tied in red string. _A contract?_

“Welcome home, Masao,” Sakura said.

His brows drew. “You sound like my wife.” He gestured at her to follow him and led her through double doors into a small library.

“I didn’t know you were married.” She took a seat before a table. In front of her was a thick wooden box with a grid surface, painted in black and gold floral vines lacquer with four feet of jade. It was much fancier than her dad’s set, but she recognized the Go board all the same.

“Does it matter?”

Sakura supposed it wouldn’t to a courtesan— benefactors were frequently married. But what did his wife think of his hobbyism? Moreover, what kind of a woman would marry _him_? “I guess not.”

“You can relax,” he said. “I’d take death over monogamy.” He unfurled the scrolls at a back table, next to a rack of calligraphy brushes and a block of solid ink, carved with flowers. Was he going to hand copy the contracts?

To her disappointment, he motioned to leave. “Wait,” she said. “Let’s play a round.”

“I have work.”

“One quick game,” Sakura said, holding out the black and gold bowls. “You can pick the color.”

“How generous,” he said, but he sank into the couch besides her. He took the black stones. “Never give up the first move.”

Sakura placed a white stone. “We’ll see.”

Higa played a whole board opening, a style which required forethought and anticipation of next actions. As they played, Sakura watched him. Hard to imagine that three days ago, he’d cut at her with a katana. Did he suspect her still, or was he too wrapped up in the crystal gem business?

“You said you admired my success.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what I do?”

Sakura’s heart rate jumped. “You trade minerals,” she said. _Tell me all about it._

“A meager venture compared to military supplies. Shinobi villages make exceptional clients.” He captured three of her pieces. “Some condone what I do. They call me a warlord and say I have blood on my hands.”

 _You do._ Sakura swept a pair of his pieces into her jar. “That’s hardly fair.”

“You don’t agree?”

Sakura recalled Anko’s advice about feeding the target’s ego and forfeited a corner of the board. “If a man is stabbed, I don’t blame the blacksmith.”

“If the blacksmith hadn’t forged the blade, the man would’ve lived. The victim’s fate was sealed with the first strike of the blacksmith’s hammer.”

They were reaching endgame now, discordant battles wrapping up across the board. Sakura felt strange, defending Higa’s actions, and not a little like he’d cornered her into doing this. “The knife might’ve been used in self-defense, or even in a kitchen, for cutting fruit. He couldn’t have known it’d be used for murder.”

Steely grey eyes met hers. “What if he did?” _Remorseless._

They finished the game in silence. Sakura placed their last piece and they poured the pieces they captured on the board to count. “Well played,” she said.

“You let me win.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“And you’re an awful liar.”

She hoped he meant about throwing the match. “Fine. Let’s have a rematch.”

He swept his stones into the cup and stood. “I really do have work.”

At the rate she was going, they’d never get back to Konoha. “When will I see you again?” she asked hastily.

“How bold.” He smirked. “Dinner?”

Sakura nodded eagerly.

* * *

Finally. 

After three days of eavesdropping on Higa’s office receiver, he let it slip— the name of the mineral he planned to mine. Sasuke was unfamiliar with the name, but he bet Sakura would know. She knew everything. 

He climbed through her window, and in a stride, was looming over her shoulder. “He said it’s—”

Sakura’s knee thumped against the bottom of the table, rattling the assortment of powder tins, jars and tiny brushes spread on top. _“Dear gods,_ ” she hissed, clutching her chest. “You’re so quiet.”

“It’s crystal gem,” he said impatiently. 

Sakura’s brow furrowed. “What? His mine? No way.”

“He’s expecting a hundred and twenty thousand carats in the mountain.”

“Unbelievable.” Sakura turned back to the mirror. “Explains why he was in such a good mood this morning.” She was drawing on her face with a tiny hairbrush, pausing every few moments to stare in the mirror. He’d never seen anyone do this before; it was strangely fascinating.

Sasuke folded his arms. “What is it?” 

“It’s a precious gemstone that amplifies chakra,” she said. “Tsunade-sama used to have a necklace made out of it from the First Hokage. He used it to control the tailed beasts.”

Hashirama couldn’t control the beasts on his own? Interesting…

“That necklace was worth three mountains of gold mines. If Higa builds this mine and pitches it to the Union, he’ll be the biggest weapons distributor in the West.”

“He wants a bidding war,” Sasuke said. One Konoha would refuse to cede.

She nodded, still not looking at him. 

“What are you going?” he asked.

“Higa wants to have dinner.” 

A date. All this effort for a date with Higa. He watched her meticulous little movements, and irritation sparked. “He’s not going to notice,” he said. 

Sakura shot an annoyed look at him, one eyebrow darker than the other, and Sasuke fought to keep a straight face. 

A knock sounded at the door. 

They moved as one, her to the door and him into the bathroom. There was a low hum of conversation, and her door shut again. “You can come out,” she said.

He returned to find a new pile of gift-wrapped boxes on her bed and a vase of fresh flowers on her desk. “What’s all this?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” she said, tugging on her eyelid in an awful way. “Would you mind opening them? I’m running behind.”

There were four boxes. Sasuke read the note on top. “Wear these tonight.” The first one was tissue paper and gold fabric. He held it up. “Dress.” Between the flimsy straps and the missing swaths of fabric, he couldn’t tell which side was up. The smallest box was a pair of emeralds, cut like teardrops. “Earrings.” He scoffed. Sakura didn’t have pierced ears. She never wore earrings. He snuck a glance as she brushed her hair— oh, she did.

He opened the third box. “Shoes.” There was no way these were made for human feet. He could wrap his hand around the heel like a weapon. How was she supposed to walk? Another stupid gift. At the last box, he paused. Tissue paper, black lace cups, whimsical straps, tiny pearls— 

“What is it?” she asked.

His mouth filled with cotton. “Underwear.”

“ _What?”_ She bolted over and snatched the box out of his hands. “How does he know my size?” she hissed. 

He faltered. Her face looked extra… nice. Jade green eyes, plump lips and sooty dark lashes. She looked like a princess. Sasuke entertained a brief fantasy of setting the box on fire. “Are you going to wear it?” he asked thickly. 

“N-none of your _business_ ,” Sakura said. She gathered everything into her arms— not the lingerie, to his relief— and ran into the bathroom. 

Alone in her room, Sasuke glared at the pile of boxes on the bed. Sakura was making progress with Higa if he was sending her gifts. Was she pleased with them? Sasuke had never thought to get her flowers before. He didn’t see the point, if they were going to be thrown out and forgotten in a few days. 

“I just remembered something Shikamaru said.” Sakura sailed barefoot out of the bathroom. Her loose hair flowed around her delicate shoulders. The dress followed the sharp tuck of her waist and flared around her hips, metallic threads catching on the light of the lamp. “… worried about losing face to the Tsuchikage. He runs the show at the Union meetings. Do you think they’re going to call our mission off?”

She slipped on one of the shoes, securing the straps around a delicate ankle. When she leaned forward, her silky hair tumbled off her back to reveal a creamy expanse of skin.  _Oh._ The dress was backless. Sakura wasn’t wearing a bra. Sakura was naked under the dress. Dress, Sakura. Naked. Those straps were so flimsy—

A string was plucked somewhere between his gut and groin.

He followed the smooth column of her neck down to the base of her spine, where the fabric gathered around the contours of her pert bottom, swaying in hypnotizing way. When she bent over the vanity, and the fabric pulled taut. The hem hiked higher on her toned thighs. 

Did she dress up like this in the village? Whenever he came over for appointments, she wore aprons and house slippers. Not that he cared—

“Sasuke-kun.” Sakura stared at him in the mirror, mic in hand. 

_Shit._ She’d asked him a question. What was it? Flies buzzed between his ears. 

She turned to him. “Are you okay?”

A knock at the door spared him from answering.

“Oh no. You have to go,” she whispered. Then her hands were on his chest, her hair right under his nose with her new height. He caught a whiff of citrus-y perfume as she corralled him to the window. A gust of wind was icy against the heated skin of his nape. Her new height brought their faces closer, and when her lips parted, an insane urge to wrap his hands around her waist welled up. 

She shoved him.

The world flipped on its axis as he fell. The side of the building rushed by, one story, two stories—

He caught himself against the alabaster wall and clambered onto the roof. He turned the recorder on. They spoke in low tones, Higa in an appreciative murmur, and Sakura in a sultry lilt that he’d never heard before. 

“— _splitting_.”

_“You look beautiful.”_

_“Thanks to your gifts.”_

Something unpleasant twisted in Sasuke’s gut.

* * *

“Would you prefer _kaiseki_ or _omakase_?” asked the host, collecting their cloaks.

“ _Omakase_ ,” Higa said. He turned to her. “Forgive me, I’m short on time.”

Sakura shook her head. Higa had spent the entire carriage ride with his nose in a work portfolio, scratching out values and scrawling notes on the papers within. What was there to forgive, when he’d done her the massive favor of bringing the juicy document _into_ the restaurant?

She _fully_ intended on capitalizing on his generosity.

The host led them into a private room that featured two seats before a smooth counter. The chef with a broad jaw wearing a fitted fabric cap bowed from behind the counter. “Higa-sama, welcome back.”

“Masahiro,” Higa greeted. “Nanami, my date.”

Sakura bowed, probably a little more excited than she should be. Sushi like this was expensive in Konoha, and the last time she’d had _omakase_ was on a mission three years ago in the Land of Waves, as a treat from the hospital’s medical director.

She climbed onto the seat with some difficulty. Between Higa’s simple robes and the chef’s unassuming attire, she was a peacock in a chicken coup. “I feel a bit overdressed,” she said.

Higa didn’t look up from the document. “I can take care of that, but you’ll have to wait until we get home.”

Masahiro dutifully shucked an albacore.

Sakura had to give Higa credit— he couldn’t have picked a worse outfit for concealing a mic. She wondered if it was Sasuke or Sai tailing her tonight.

Hopefully Sai. Sasuke was entirely out of it tonight, responding to her questions with a thousand-yard stare. After she’d shoved him out of the window, she was tempted to check the ground below, in case he’d splattered against the pavement. The crystal gem revelation was quite shocking, she supposed.

A lynx-eyed apprentice in a black apron appeared from behind the counter with a small menu. “Our sake selections tonight.”

Higa didn’t look up. “What would you like?”

Did Higa plan on working through dinner? That wouldn’t do. She needed to get his attention. What was next in Anko’s guide?

 _Step number two: ask the target to teach you something._ This one had confused them all. _Makes them feel smart and gets them comfortable with speaking uninterrupted to you at length._

It'd have to do. He loved to drink.

The menu had twenty different listings, sorted into five categories. “I don’t know much about any of these,” she said sweetly. “What’s the difference between them? _Teach me, and teach me all about crystal gem._

He waved a hand. “We’ll take the Kenbishi.”

Sakura pouted.

Masahiro held up a rectangular fish with tiny fins and a white belly. “Fugu?”

“Always,” Higa said.

Sakura started. “Wait, to eat?” _Fugu_ was a species of blowfish native to a distant island in the Land of Sun. It contained a neurotoxin so potent, a single drop was enough to induce total respiratory failure in minutes. During her externship in Suna studying poisons, Kankuro had shown her his jar of _fugu_ ovaries— the most toxic organ— which he used to dip his weapons in. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“You’ll offend the chef,” Higa said. “He’s trained for a long time to prepare it. He’s even got an apprentice.” The apprentice chef bowed.

“I’m very careful,” Masahiro said, setting the _fugu_ aside.

He served a litany of bite-sized morsels— creamy sea urchin, tiger prawn, octopus sashimi— steely knife flashing while his apprentice watched on. Something about the two men unsettled her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. Neither had any a particularly noticeable chakra signature.

Higa ate in silence, engrossed in his work.

“Thank you for the meal,” Sakura said, trying to read over his hand. _Purity 99.7%; refractory index—_

He snapped the portfolio shut. “I’m not good company. How’s the meal?”

“Delicious,” she said. “Work going well?”

“Very.”

Masahiro set two cuts of grilled eel before them. Higa ate his without reaction. “May I ask you something?”

Sakura tried hers; it was the best thing she’d ever put in her mouth. “Of course.”

“Hypothetically, if you knew I planned to kill you—” Higa swirled the sake in his cup “— what would you do?”

Sakura willed herself to remain expressionless, and was satisfied when his eyes searched her for a reaction. “I— I don’t know.” At the counter, Masahiro picked up the _fugu_ fish and sliced open its belly, his face betraying nothing.

“Would you plot to kill me preemptively?”

“I— no,” Sakura said. She had to stay calm. Had Higa intended on poisoning her here?

“Why not?”

“That would be murder.”

Masahiro removed the _fugu_ organs, and she watched him like a hawk. One slight of hand, one surreptitious knick of an ovary, and the sashimi was as good as a lethal dose. The apprentice moved closer to the workstation, his hands on the cutting board.

“What if I _attempted_ to kill you, and you strike me in self-defense, and in doing so, kill me?”

"I couldn't."

"If you could. Is that also murder?"

“Well, no,” Sakura said. _What was he getting at?”_

“In both scenarios, you have killed me,” Higa said.

Masahiro sliced the _fugu_ into sashimi so thin, it was translucent, arranging it on a bed of fish roe. While he turned to clean the knife, Sakura caught it— the attendant, swiping his finger quickly along the roe, while Masahiro’s back was turned.

Her blood ran cold.

Had he poisoned the dish?

It would’ve been easy to dab the discarded _fugu_ organs in the waste bowl and contaminate.

It wouldn’t work— she was immune to tetrodotoxin. But that Higa was making an attempt like this didn’t bode well for the success of her mission.

“Nanami?”

“Yes?”

Higa regarded her with curiosity. “Why are they different?”

“Well, I think the intention is different. In your first example, you’re actively trying to kill me—” Masahiro finished plating the _fugu_ sashimi “— and in the second, my death is an unintended consequence.”

The apprentice lifted the two plates and set the contaminated one…

… before Higa.

Sakura whirled to him.

Before he could lift his chopsticks, she shoved his piece in her mouth. She could hardly taste the delicacy over her fear, but better her than him. The worst it would do was weaken her muscles, and the effect wouldn’t kick in for an hour or two.

Higa’s brows rose. “Greedy.”

Sakura laughed sheepishly.

He turned to her, leaning against the counter. “You’re quite an interesting girl.”

“In what way?”

“You don’t look upset.”

Sakura was sweating bullets. “We’re having dinner.”

“Yes, but I asked you to consider yourself a murderer. Most women would find the implication off-putting, but you seem… eager.” He smirked at their empty plates. “Makes me wonder if my life is in danger.”

Sakura looked into his grey eyes, unsure of what to say.

At her expression, he laughed. “I was joking.”

Chakra spiked from the back of the restaurant, too close to be Sasuke or Sai. The apprentice was gone.

“Pardon me,” she said, standing up. She’d forgotten she was wearing heels.

“Did you feel that?” she whispered to the mic.

Sakura closed the sliding door and followed the chakra spike around the corner, down a narrow hallway, and through a nondescript door.

The chill of the evening wind cut through her dress. She stood at the back door of the restaurant, facing an alley lined with dumpsters.

The door clicked behind her.

Sakura dove to the right, and something metallic scythed through the air where her left ear had been.

She spun around.

The apprentice stood in his uniform, brandishing a large knife. “Who are you? A bodyguard?”

“Who are _you?”_ she returned.

He arced the knife in a downward slashes, gaining on her. Sakura ducked under his next blow, dropped to one knee, and swept her leg behind his knees. He fell like a tree. She pinned his chest with her knees. Her right fist slammed into his jaw.

He disappeared in a puff of smoke.

_A shadow clone._

Sakura dusted off her mud-stained knees, catching her breath. The alley was deserted, and she sensed no chakra signatures around. But there was no doubt: someone tried to kill Higa Masao tonight, and whoever it was knew about her.

* * *

Sakura returned to the their dining room, Masahiro and Higa were deep in conversation.

They stopped when they saw her.

“Are you alright?” Higa asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “The sake is a bit strong.”

The chef did not appear to notice anything amiss. Higa glanced at her. “Should we go?”

She nodded.

In the carriage, he set the portfolio on his lap, regarding her quietly.

Sakura’s thoughts raced.

Tonight’s attempt was premeditated; a wealthy businessman with a penchant for danger tries a lethal delicacy and dies from accidental poisoning— a tragic case of food mishandling.

“Have I upset you?” Higa asked.

 _Who was that?_ Masahiro said he’d been an apprentice.

“As you intended?”

“Yes, I suppose,” he said with indifference. “I confess, your reaction was not as amusing as I’d imagined it to be.”

“I’m sorry you found me lacking.”

“You can make it up to me.” Grey eyes crawled to her bared thigh, an inches from his trousers. She was glad she’d scrubbed her knees of dirt. He leaned in. “We’ve gotten to know each other.”

“Some,” she said. Sakura needed to meet with Sasuke and Sai about tonight’s developments. “Do you go there often? That restaurant?”

His gaze chilled, and he sat back. “It’s been a while.”

“Masahiro seems pleasant.”

Higa flipped the portfolio open with an air of petulance.

“I wonder what sort of master he is,” she tried again. “How long has he been training his apprentice?”

Higa shrugged. “I’ve never seen him before.”

Was he throwing a tantrum because she’d refused him? This was not going the way she’d hoped at all.

 _What do rich old men crave?_ Anko barked. _Adoration. Appeal to his ego. He may be uglier than a monkey’s armpit and older than dirt, but make him feel like he’s the handsomest man you’ve ever met._ Then the mannequin was brought out.

“Masao.” What should she compliment him on? Manipulation? Lack of moral compass? Unabashed war-mongering? Sakura settled for a polite touch to his knee.

His eyes flitted to her hand. “Don’t touch me unless you intend to fuck me.”

Sakura snatched her hand back. It _was_ a tantrum.

They spent the rest of the journey in silence, and as the gatekeeper led them to the complex’s front door, Sakura wondered if it wasn’t simply easier to defect from Konoha altogether and live out the rest of her days as a crone in a distant village, undisturbed by the machinations of men.

No, her promise to Honjo. And Sai and Sasuke. And measuring up to Ino. “I—“

“Your procurer,” Higa said. They walked up the front steps. “Is he a shinobi?”

Sakura blinked. “Yes.” He must’ve been clued off by Sasuke’s sword.

“Is he affiliated with a village?”

“He’s from Stone,” Sakura said. “He completed an apprenticeship.”

As Stone had no hidden village, would-be shinobi learned ninjutsu the old fashioned way— private apprenticeships. Disciples sought masters in fugitives from Suna and Iwa, in desperate need of coin, and trained in whatever techniques the missing-nin knew in exchange for tuition. In Konoha, unauthorized dissemination of village techniques warranted a kill-on-sight order from ANBU, which made Sasuke’s cover incredibly ironic.

“I’m hosting a party on Sunday for a few friends in the arms industry,” he said. “They’re curious about these apprenticeships. Would you ask if he’s available at eight? You may come as well, of course,” he said.

That curiosity sounded very illegal. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter made me hungry lol  
> Inspo:  
> [ _omakase_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/omakase)  
> [ _kaiseki_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaiseki)


	6. Starving Faithful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura and Sasuke attend a party.

“A shadow clone?” Sai asked.

Sakura nodded. They were on the roof of the complex, dawn casting long shadows through the foliage of the garden below. “The chef’s apprentice.”

“Higa didn’t notice?” Sasuke asked.

“Didn’t suspect a thing,” she said.

“That’s twice you’ve had to save him,” Sai said. 

Sakura frowned. “Weird, isn’t it? He’s made it this far doing what he’s doing, but as soon as we show up, someone tries to kill him.”

Sai shrugged. “Could be a coincidence. You said Higa didn’t know the apprentice?”

She shook her head.

“Why would a sushi chef want to kill him?” Sasuke asked.

The perpetrator had to know several facts in advance of the attempt: that Higa frequented the restaurant; that he ordered fugu; and finally, most ominously, that he’d be there last night. “I think he was an accomplice,” she said. “As for motive… I’m not sure. But the timing seems suspicious when he’s just sent out his crystal gen offers to all the villages.”

“It’ll be the jinchuriki all over again,” Sai said.

Sakura nodded. At one point, the tailed beasts were traded and stolen between villages as bargaining chips. The more a village had, the stronger it was. But there were nine tailed beasts and one man in control of crystal gem. “The Union will have to come up with regulation for crystal gem, or it’ll be chaos,” she said.

“He knows,” Sasuke said. “That’s why he’s acting now.”

Under the table deals, before his negations could be limited by legislation. Possession was nine-tenths of ownership; no village would cede its supply of crystal gem once they got their hands on it, regulations or not. And if they’d gotten wind of being one-upped by another village, well…

“He’s painted a target on his back,” Sasuke muttered.

Sakura nodded. “Do you think the council will negotiate with him?”

Sasuke and Sai shared a look. They nodded.

“Won’t they call off our mission then? Why investigate him if they’re going to sign a new deal with Higa?”

“They might. Until they do, we keep going.” Sasuke quashed her hopes.

“I hope he doesn’t have more dinners planned,” she said. At least he was safe in the complex. 

“Next time, stay put,” Sasuke ordered. “Focus on Higa. Let us handle the rest.”

Sakura blinked. “It was just a clone.”

“Could’ve been more.”

“I could’ve handled more.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. “You took an unnecessary risk.”

He was _serious._ She rankled at his tone. “What about you?”

Sai cleared his throat. 

“What about me.”

“If Higa’s my problem, why did you come to the dojo?” Armed to the teeth, at that.

“You couldn’t defend yourself,” he said plainly.

“I _could_ —”

“Not without chakra.”

He thought she’d lose? Unbidden, memories of his back, aged twelve to seventeen, flitted across her mind’s eye. Did he still see her as that girl? “Higa signs contracts for a living. I’m a _kunoichi.”_

Sasuke scowled. “How’s that going?” 

Sakura faltered, recalling how short Higa had been with her. She couldn’t read his intentions, and their conversations meandered through the strangest topics. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “In the carriage, he told me— ” 

“I know what he said.” Sasuke’s tone was flat. “Are you going to?”

Sakura’s cheeks heated. He probably never questioned the other kunoichi like this. He thought she wouldn’t. He was probably right. “I… if I have too,” she whispered.

His expression blackened. "Why was your name on the registry?” 

“I'm going to leave,” Sai said.

“I told you, _everyone_ did the training. We all got certified.”

“You never took your name off,” he groused. “You could’ve been sent on one of these missions, and it wouldn’t have been with me as your captain.” 

Sakura gaped. “What, because you’re giving me special treatment?” 

“The expectations would be different.” _Higher,_ was unspoken.

“I never asked you to go easy on me.” So this was how he really felt. She couldn’t believe she thought he was supportive last night. 

“Anyone _else_ on this mission—” Sasuke exhaled sharply. He closed in on her and didn’t stop until she could feel the heat and aggression rolling off his powerful frame, until she had to tilt her head back to look at him. A lesser man would’ve cowered, but Sakura stood ramrod straight. 

_Finish the sentence,_ she wanted to say. Anyone else would’ve done it faster. Anyone else would’ve charmed Higa by now and gotten the information they needed. Sai’s words: _depends on the swallow._

“While it might seem inconceivable to you that I could _possibly_ seduce a man, believe it or not, it’s happened before, and _when_ I sleep with Higa, you will be the _first_ to know, are you happy?” she snapped.

Sasuke’s face went blank, as though she’d slapped him. Her breath evened. What was she doing? Raising her voice wouldn’t solve anything. The mission was complicated enough. “I’m—”

“Yeah. Do that,” he said coldly.

Sakura quashed the twinge of hurt that welled up inside her at his tone and stuck out her chin. “I will.”

* * *

The opulent splendor of the warlord's banquet hall stole Sakura's breath away. The walls were engraved with motifs of vines and lotus, and moonlight filtered through floor to window ceilings paneled in copper filigree. Brass oil lamps embedded with gemstones hung from the ceiling, suffusing the hall in dim and sensual firelight. In a back corner, musicians coaxed a sultry melody from instruments she’d never seen before— long necked lutes, hand drums, and vertical flutes.

Sakura’s hair stood on end. Something about this party felt… illicit. More so than his garden party.

Perhaps it was the arrangement of the hall— plush lounges before low tables bearing glassware and tall basins of burning tobacco, connected to smoking pipes. Or the guests— all masked, more men than women. They conversed in deep tones from behind veils, headscarves, and metal masks, lifted only for a quick draw from the pipe. 

Tendrils of white vapors curled into the air. Between the smoke, the dim lighting, and the masks, it was hard to tell who was who. Where was Sasuke? He’d arrived before her. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” A buxom woman with deep ochre skin glided toward Sakura. She wore a mask of hammered silver that left only her wide-set eyes uncovered. 

“How did you know?” Sakura asked.

The stranger beckoned her to follow under an archway. She stopped behind a wide column that offered privacy from the rest of the hall. 

“ _This—”_ she lifted the length of fine chain that draped the bridge of Sakura’s nose “—goes _over_ your head, and _these—”_ she twisted the mask so that the veil of hair-thin golden chains hung over her cheeks and mouth “—go in the front. Every girl from Stone knows how _ankara_ are worn.”

“Oh.” Sakura’s cheeks heated. When she opened the box, the head piece— a pile of intricate chains and tiny medallions— had befuddled her. She’d assumed it was a necklace and hastily adjusted once she saw the other attendees. 

The woman circled Sakura. “Is your husband an exporter? This is fine embroidery.” She lifted her hand to the billowing organza of her trousers, gathered at her ankles.

“In business, actually,” she said, deciding to err on the side of caution, in case courtesans were not welcome at such events. “I was just looking for him.”

They returned to the party, and Sasuke rose to stand with a ring of terse-faced men in corrugated metal masks. Despite his dark hair and plain apparel— a longline vest over loose-cut robes in camel— he exuded lethal grace and unbridled power, looking every bit as forbidding as the brutes.

“Is that him?” the woman asked. "He’s gorgeous.” 

Sakura sniffed. “He’s alright.” Since their heated exchange on the roof, he spoke to her only when necessary, in clipped tones. Like _she_ had been the one to pick a fight.  “Thanks for your help.” She couldn’t waste time thinking about Sasuke. She had a warlord to find.

Sakura prowled the room and spotted Higa deep in conversation with a swarthy thug in a black cloak with bindings up to his nose, eerily similar to Zabuza from Mist. What kind of “friends” had Higa invited?

The man disappeared into the hall, and Higa beckoned her over. 

The last time they spoke, after dinner, he’d been short with her. She couldn’t risk pushing him away further. But she couldn’t remember Anko’s fourth or fifth steps, for the life of her.

He slid her a glass of amber wine. ”Taste this." 

The wine had the sweetness of green apple and honey and the aroma of basil. The carbonation prickled her throat, but the dryness warmed all the way to her toes. " _Wow_."  Sakura resisted the urge to drain the glass. While Sakura had mastered nearly every one of Tsunade's techniques, her inability to hold her drink had become something of a legend among the ranks of the Konoha jonin. 

“An old favorite, from a house in the Land of Nectar.” His hair was brushed back from his temples, and he wore an ivory overcoat, tailored to emphasize his shoulders. His arm was thrown over the back of the sofa.

“You’re in a good mood,” she observed. 

“It's true."

“Work going well?”

“You always ask about that. There are other pleasures in life,” he said, sweeping a gaze over her that lingered longer too long on the crystal pendant between her breasts. Or just her breasts. “You figured the _ankara_ out.” 

“I had help.” She hoped this wouldn’t be a habit— him dressing her. The costumes provided by ID were specifically designed for espionage with pockets sewn for concealing recorders and weapons. The bodice Higa sent her was close-fitted and covered in beads. No room for a bra, much less a mic. “Why’d you pick this?”

He shrugged. “I thought it’d bring out your eyes.”

None of his tension from dinner remained. She supposed if she was about to become a billionaire off blood money, she’d be in a chipper mood too. “I’ve never been to anything like this before. These masks are beautiful.” 

“And functional. This circle prefers a touch of discretion."

Sakura looked around. The guests were huddled in conversation, clinking glasses punctuated with quiet laughs. “From each other?”

“Particularly from each other.”

What kind of people attended parties with their enemies? “What do they have to hide?”

“They’re in sensitive industries.” 

_Oh. Criminals._ She regarded him from under her lashes. “Like you?” 

Higa leaned his elbows on his knees. “Like me.” 

“They seem festive enough.”

“Life is short. There's always a reason to celebrate.” He drew a pack of cigarettes and slipped one between his lips. He offered her one, taking out a lighter.

Sakura smiled tightly. “No thanks.” 

He pocketed the lighter and the cigarette. “Do you ever indulge? What’s your vice?”

Sakura thought. “I sleep in pretty late on my days off. Also, I have this one coworker who's nice but really chatty. Sometimes, when I pass him on the streets, I pretend not to see him so I don’t get caught up with him.” Sakura bit her lip. It was quite rude of her; Honjo was a highly respected physician, and she ought to show her respects to her superiors.

Higa dipped his head.

“What?”

“That’s not a vice.” His shoulders shook with laughter.

Sakura faltered. “Well, what’s yours then?”

He rubbed his jaw, and mirthful grey eyes met hers. “I think I’m looking at her.”

* * *

The party was a walking Bingo Book convention. Sai had to be wetting himself.

“Konjiki. Kido. Amuda. Fushin.”

Sasuke swept the room, speaking low into his scarf where his borrowed mic was tucked. The masks complicated things, but he could recognize the obvious targets. Sasuke blood hummed with anticipation. Each missing-nin was months of hunting and piles of paperwork spared, but he couldn’t do a thing without blowing their cover. All he could do was gather information.

_“— if he raises tariffs, the southern Earth market is ours—”_

Most of the conversation centered on the new political climate in the western continents, under the new Tsuchikage. He was favorable to reforming Ishigakure, the former hidden village of Stone that dissembled in the face of financial duress. The oligarchs had vested interest in establishing a shinobi village under a puppet government, and Higa had gathered an assortment of shinobi— all missing-nin, except him— to field their questions.

This party was a reckless move. Uncharacteristically so, based on the information from Hideo.

_“— don’t see why he wants to build the wall. It’s a waste of resources—”_

_“— zealot, he wants a monument to his ego—”_

This mission was more productive than he’d anticipated. Why was he was tense all over? The tobacco smoke stung his eyes, but he was used to the aftermath of _katon_ techniques. Avaricious guests dragged him into conversation on the procuring industry, but he was used to acting, too.

It was music, he decided. Too loud.

Sasuke’s eyes drifted across the room. Higa was deep in conversation with a petite woman wearing a indecent outfit of jade organza. Half her face was covered with something gold, but he could spot Sakura from a mile away with a bag over her head.

Her attire reminded him of the last wedding he attended. It had been a muggy evening, and the drawing room had smelled like saffron and oudh, like here. His vexing head scarf was on the brink of unraveling as he bent over the groom— the firstborn son of a Wind despot—for his prenuptial shave. But Sasuke’s handiwork held when he scraped away the man’s oiled beard and held still, when he drew the razor across the his throat.

When he escaped through the reception hall, he passed the bride, kneeling besides an empty cushion. Their eyes met through her scarlet veil. Her cursory smile held the eager anticipation of a woman awaiting the rest of her life.

That was a year ago. Was she still grieving?

He needed this mission to end. There was too much downtime to think about useless things, like the bride, and why Sakura had been worried about her progress with Higa when he’d been eye-fucking her all night long.

_Good._

The sooner she seduced him, the sooner they could all go their separate ways. He felt a presence behind him.

It was a tall woman with short black hair. Her red veil obscured her age, but there was a clinical gleam to her eye. “Fujimoto Riku,” she said, offering her hand. “Importer.”

He shook it. “Ito Kyouya, procurer.”

Her sharp eyes narrowed imperceptibly, but Sasuke caught the tiny motion. “Are you one of the shinobi? I’ve been told that there are quite a few of you here.”

_More than a few._

“I used to dabble in that business myself.” She sipped from her wine. “It’s been years. I’ve heard Iwa repealed their sanctions? Business must be booming.”

“I work out of Stone.”

“A local.” Riku scanned the room and gestured at Sakura. “Is that her? Your courtesan?”

He nodded.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t been snatched up by a benefactor, with hair like that. She must be new.”

“It’s dyed.”

“False advertising?”

He shrugged. They’d debated asking Sakura to dye her hair black but decided the exotic color would work in her favor. Not that he had an opinion or anything.

“Masao hasn’t changed,” Riku said, rolling her eyes. “Still likes them young and pretty. Look at how he’s dressed her up. I’m surprised he let her out of his bed.”

Sasuke’s spine stiffened.

“That’s the problem with these big clients— you can’t tell them no. They think because they have money, they can do whatever they want. It’s why I left.” Riku drained her glass. “Alright, I’m drunk. Shall we go say hello?”

Across the room, Higa adjusted Sakura’s mask. “You can go.”

Riku scoffed. “Oh come. It’ll be fun.”

&-&-&

“A great tragedy has befallen your handler.” Higa poured himself a generous helping of whisky. 

Sakura turned. A slender woman with sable hair strode to their table with Sasuke in tow. “Who is she?”

“A perfidious bitch.”

“What happened?”

“One lucrative contract and one lapse in judgement.” Higa drained the glass in one swallow. “Let this be a cautionary tale against workplace affairs.”

"Masao-kun, it has been too long," the woman purred.

"Some would say too soon." 

"Yet against the odds, you've made a remarkable recovery," Riku's smile was all teeth and viciousness. "What's your name, darling?" 

"I'm Nanami.” Sasuke's gaze fixed on Higa's hand at her knee. Sakura smiled pointedly. _See_? _Progress._ “Good evening, Ito-san.” 

Sasuke nodded stiffly. She needed to get the mic back from him at some point in the evening, in case Higa split off after.

“I was just telling him how I adore your hair,” Riku said. She turned to Higa. “A change in taste?”

”Yes, her decorum is refreshing.”

”Oh, don't pretend to gentility.”

Higa stood. “I don’t remember inviting you. What do you want?”

“You know what I want. I sent it to you two months ago,” she hissed.

He was unfazed. “I’m not signing that—”

“It’s _mine—”_

“Not any more.” He turned to Sakura and Sasuke. “Pardon us.”

Sakura caught Sasuke's eye. Quietly, she rose from the lounge and slipped beneath the archway, looking for a place where they could have privacy. She found an abandoned corner of the hall, hidden by large panels of filigree and ornate pillars, lit by only the window. The music and conversation of the party faded. 

Moments later, Sasuke stepped inside. His scent— pine and rain, she decided— permeated, and she was all too aware of how tight of a space it was for two people. Her anger from yesterday morning had faded to regret. Despite his harsh tone, he’d had her best interests in mind. 

Sasuke handed her mic and transmitter back. He gave her a quick once-over that tangled where her thumbs were hooked into the tight waistband of her pants. Was he going to watch? “I have to take this off,” she mumbled. “The holster’s on my leg.” 

He spun on his heel.

Sakura undid the lacing at her lower back, trying not to brush against him. “Okay,” she said, when everything was in place.

Pitch black eyes darted to her legs for the briefest of moments before meeting hers. They spoke at once.

“I know I can—”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Go ahead,” Sakura said quickly.

“I don’t think you’re weak.” 

“I know,” she said. It was a silly accusation. “I’m sorry I yelled.” Younger her would’ve been appalled by her behavior. Sakura used to bark at Naruto all day long, but she never _once_ raised her voice with Sasuke, worried that he’d find it ugly or unladylike. Not that she hadn’t _wanted_ to; he was as insufferable as Naruto sometimes. “It’s a sore spot for me, being incapable."

Sasuke leaned a shoulder against the window, boxing her into the corner, his patrician features soft in the moonlight. “Why?”

“I spend so much time at the hospital. People see me as just a medic-nin, good at healing—” 

“No one thinks that.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his blunt tone. “Thanks.”

“Is that why you took this mission?”

She nodded. “I wanted to get out of the village. You’re lucky you get to travel.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Sakura cringed. She knew what the council decided after his trial. As an ex-felon, he’d never be eligible for Hokage or a council position. Never be allowed to teach children. He was stripped of citizenship rights and his only permitted travel was for work. And she’d told him he was _lucky_. “I’m sorry, that was an awful thing to say.”

“Why?”

“Because your probation…”

"Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The travel restrictions are a pain, but the rest doesn’t matter.”

She gaped. “Don’t you want to get married?”

He froze.

_Oh dear._ “I didn’t mean— “ that sounded like a _proposal_ “— I didn’t mean with me. I meant in general.”

“I can after I finish.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What about you?”

She was surprised he cared to ask. “I’d like to have a family. I’ve always wanted to. Work will be tough, but I’m sure my husband and I’ll figure it out.” _Her husband._ If her cheeks weren’t pink before, they were now. In those girlhood dreams, it had always been Sasuke she’d pictured as her husband.

“He’ll have to be home a lot.”

“Not necessarily.” 

“You’re never home,” he pointed out.

“You’re never home either," she said, a little short.

His brows rose.

Sakura was horrified. Why would that matter? _Deflect, deflect, deflect._ “So you’ve never wanted to teach Academy?” When he was silent, she barreled on. “You know, when we were all about to graduate, I didn’t know if I wanted to be a kunoichi. Fighting scared me. But it felt like a waste to quit when the failure rate was so high,” she said. “Meeting you two changed me.”

He turned to her. “Me.”

“Yeah. You knew exactly what you wanted from day one, and you did it.” Against all odds, he avenged his clan. Meanwhile, all _she_ wanted to do at twelve was go home, avoid Naruto, and play.

“No."

“What?”

“I didn’t know anything.” He turned to the window and the strange, electrical current, omnipresent under his pale skin, seemed to bristle with darkness.

_What was he talking about?_ “I-- you did your best.”

“You don’t know know what I did," he said tersely. His hands fisted at his sides. 

“So tell me.” He looked achingly lonely, and she reached for his arm. At the contact, he tensed. It was a bad habit of hers. He hated being touched, always froze up like a log. “Sorry,” she said, pulling away.

He snatched her hand up. His was broad and coarsely-boned, so large it engulfed hers. Her skin tingled at the contact. 

“My clan was planning a coup.” Cold, unfaltering words. “Itachi killed them on Danzo's orders to protect our reputation. The Sandaime knew.”

She gasped. Uchiha Itachi was the terrifying criminal who’d left Kakashi and Sasuke catatonic with his terrifying genjutsu. 

“He wanted me hate him, and I believed everything he said." His grip was bone-crushing. "The night he died I felt freed. Like I’d finally honored my parents."

Sakura’s lips parted. “You can't blame yourself.”

“I killed him. He’s gone. I’ll never hear his voice again. Why did he make me do it?” He turned to her and seemed to realize how tightly he was clutching her hand. He dropped it, and blood returned in a rush. 

“I don’t know,” she said. During the war, she never crossed paths with him. “I didn’t know your brother, but it sounds like he loved and cherished you dearly, and I know what that feels like. I think he would’ve wanted you to be happy.”

His eyes widened, and the candor of his expression broke her heart. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” she said. She threw her arms around his neck. To think that he had been holding onto this all along was gut-wrenching. His heart pounded erratically next to her ear, faster than she’d ever heard it, and she nestled into his warmth, waiting for him to shove her off. “I’m glad I took this mission. Even if there’s nothing between us,” she said teasingly, “I missed that nothing with you.”

After this was all over, would they go restrained cordiality and seeing each other three times a year? A pang of dismay shot through her at the thought. In the distance, the band began a new song, an unwelcome reminder that they still had a job to do. 

Reluctantly, she let him go. “I should head back and find Higa.” The _ankara_ was hopelessly lopsided, and Sakura fumbled with the little chains, wishing she had a mirror. She looked up at him. “Does this look okay?”

His gaze roved her features— eyes, nose, lips— lingering like a soft whisper or kiss, and for a moment, she wished he _would_ kiss her. What would it feel like when he wasn’t obliging out of duty, but desire?

His jaw clenched. He pulled the veil off. He cupped her head and the rough pad of his thumb caressed her bared cheekbone. “Sasuke-kun?”

When his head lowered, every inch of her body went taut. She waited with bated breath and his lips brushed against hers, so lightly and cautiously that she thought she imagined it at first. He did it again. And again. Soft, chaste kisses that bid her eyes to slide shut. Her hands went to his hair. 

Her quiet capitulation was like a spark to dry kindling. He kissed her as though she’d stoked some long-smoldering hunger within him as he coaxed her jaw open. His tongue slipped past her lips to trace demands against the roof, tasting every inch of her mouth, wresting a whimper from her throat. His hands splayed possessively around her waist, and when her knees buckled, he pinned her against the frigid glass of the window.

_Pulse._

Her eyes shot open. “Wait—” 

He growled and chased her mouth but she twisted away.  The gardens outside were dark in the light of the new moon. 

“Did you feel that?” she asked.

His brows furrowed.

_Pulse._

Sasuke yanked her to the ground with inhuman speed, and the window burst in a spray of glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little did my mom know that SAT prep class would only be helpful for writing Higa's lines for this fic  
> Inspo:  
> [ _ankara_ ](https://d2h1pu99sxkfvn.cloudfront.net/b0/5264957/343249616_40QYotJUDp/P0.jpg)


	7. Chasing Pavement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura heads underground; the team plots their next steps.

The ear-splitting sound of shattering glass rang through the hall. The warm night air wafted in, and the music stopped. 

Pandemonium erupted.

Sasuke lifted her to her feet. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. He had shielded her from the explosion. 

Together, they slinked from the alcove. The banquet hall was in chaos. The once stately floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the gardens were no more than piles of rubble atop swaths of silk damask curtain, slashed from the ceiling. The ornate double doors to the hall were sealed in dirt— an Earth technique of some sort. Higa’s guards slumped lifeless under a bloody row of shuriken, embedded in the wall. 

The divide between shinobi and civilians among the guests was plain— the former drew their own weapons; the latter scrambling for the walls. Every eye in the room was trained at the western wall: a dozen bandits, clad in black masks. Some held swords, others were bare-fisted.

It would be a bloodbath. 

“Stay put,” he said.

Before she could protest, he disappeared into the fray. Shuriken and kunai whistled by. An errant exploding tag sent a sofa careening through the air, and a blanket of earth rose in a wave, extinguishing half the suspended oil lamps, and plunging the room further in darkness— 

An arm wrapped around her waist.

Sakura twisted against her assailant, but it was one of Higa’s personal guards. He hauled her through a hidden door where Higa waited, flanked by other uniformed men. Wordlessly, they were hustled through a blur of dark hallways and down endless flights of stairs. 

“What’s happening?” she asked. 

Higa shook his head, lips pressed together. They stopped at a thick door, marked with chakra seals. He beckoned her inside and shut the door with the guards outside. Chakra glowed, and several intricate seals locked. 

They were the seating room of a simply furnished suite. Around the corner, there was a fully stocked pantry, and another cabinet of weapons. This was an escape plan. Higa had anticipated tonight going the way it did. “Why did you shut them out?”

“I don’t trust them.” 

“Why not?”

He studied her face, and she realized her mask was gone. “Someone’s been breaking into my office.” 

Every hair on her neck stood. “How do you know?”

He pulled a familiar black transmitter from his pocket and threw it at her feet. She carefully schooled her expression into one of surprise. “What’s that?”

“A radio transmitter and mic for recording conversations” he said, watching her carefully. “I found it in my office.”

She nodded. “Who do you think put it there?”

“It’s the newest model. Military grade,” he said.

“A shinobi.” 

“I thought so too, but the placement was strange. No trained shinobi would plant a mic next to a running pipe in the wall. This was an amateur’s work,” he said. 

_Praise the gods._ “A staff member?”

He nodded. “I first noticed it last month. Documents shifting overnight. Ink smudged on contracts I haven’t touched. I have a rat.” 

“Is that why you threw this party? To figure out who they were?"

“Among other reasons,” he said. 

Before she could process what Higa told her, a guard knocked on the door. “We can return, Higa-sama. The hall is clear.” _That was fast._

“Stay here,” Higa said. 

Sakura shot to her feet. “I’d feel safer up there than with your guards.”

“You might see some upsetting things," he warned.

Sakura nodded. 

The guard led them back up, and her heart fluttered.  The banquet hall was in ruins. Piles of marble, glass, and stone littered the cracked inlays of the floor, smeared in spots with blood. Several of the intricate archways were in pieces, and upended tables rolled over what remained of the satin tablecloths, smoldering with flames. Bodies littered the ground. 

Sasuke stood under a burning archway, unrecognizable from earlier this evening. His vest and robe were singed, the once camel-sleeves black with char and blood. He looked _furious._

_“_ Ito-san!” 

Sasuke turned and his expression softened. They met halfway, and with dread, she noticed a smudge of her lipstick on his chin. Luckily, it looked like blood.

“You’re still here. Why didn’t you run?” Higa asked.

Sasuke looked at Higa so coldly, she was surprised his knees did not buckle. “I was looking for her.” 

“She was with me.” Higa took in the room. “I suppose I won’t be hosting parties anytime soon. Are there any survivors?”

“I don’t know,” he lied. Sakura knew he knew there were no other detectable chakra signatures in the room. 

His shoulders  looked stiff. “Are you okay?” she asked. 

“I have a medic-nin,” Higa offered.

Sasuke looked as though he’d rather swallow a large kunai. “I’m fine.”

“Thank you for your help tonight.” Higa took in Sasuke’s appearance. “Once you’re recovered, come to my office. I have an offer I’d like to discuss with you.”

* * *

Six hours later, Sakura sprinted free of the complex. Red dust caked her boots as she crossed the vast swath of undeveloped land around the warlord's estate and onto the main road. The town slept on, the empty shopfronts of market street barely lit by the blue light of dawn. Sakura picked out the discreet cafe between two salons. 

A man in his early seventies, the first soul she'd seen since the guard at her door, counted coins at the register. The shop was empty save half a dozen chairs, flipped onto the bar. 

"A lovely day, isn't it?" he asked, eyes on his paper.

“Full of promise." 

At the code word, he rose and unlocked a door leading to a small set of stairs in the back. She thanked him and climbed up. The wooden landing was flooded with pastel light. She entered a charming little patio, open-air but hidden from the main street. Sai sat at a table, painting. 

“Did I beat him here?”

Sai nodded.

Sakura sank into a chair. Was he injured? “I wish the sky always looked like that" 

“Would you still admire it?” 

“Sure. Why not?”

“The novelty would fade.” Sai rolled his rice-paper creation into a scroll and dismantled his easel. “What happened last night?”

&-&-&

The sun broke over the mountain, and color leeched into the street. Dull greys became the red of apple skin, the bronze of ten-ryo coins, and cornflower blue of a shopfront. Sakura once asked him what seeing with the Mangekyo was like. _It must be beautiful._

He didn’t have the heart to tell her it was a hellscape compared to reality— a black moon hung on a bleeding sky, a forest of corpse trees. 

Sasuke found the cafe and entered. It was a small space, half-occupied with customers. An old man counted coins behind the register. 

"Delivering the milk, boy?" he asked Sasuke.

"As promised." 

Weathered fingers stilled. The shopkeeper slapped the _ryo_ on the table and opened the gate. “ _Murderer_ ," the old man muttered as he passed. 

The store patio was small and deserted save for two inhabitants.  Sakura looked up. “There you are,” she said. 

Sai looked at him expectantly. Sasuke tossed his Bingo Book, marked up with notes. He flipped through. “They’re going to cut our funding if you keep this up.” He was joking, but Sasuke wondered what would happen to ANBU if they ever ran out of criminals to hunt.

“All of who? Keep what up?” Sakura glanced between the two of them.

“Nothing." Sasuke hadn’t intended to kill them all. He was going find her and head out. But he couldn't, and they kept getting in the way.

She pouted. “You two always leave me out.”

Sasuke took the furthest seat from her. “Where did Higa take you?” 

“This underground bunker. He had it all planned out.” Sakura told them what happened.

Sai sucked a breath through his teeth. “We got lucky with that mic.” 

She nodded guiltily.

If Higa suspected a rat, he was probably doing routine sweeps of his office. He would’ve found it no matter where she hid it. “We still have yours,” Sasuke said. 

She brightened. “What did he want with you?”

“To hire me for a trip.”

“Why would he think you’d agree? What did he offer you?” Sai asked.

“Not to bring her along.” Specifically, Higa mentioned how dangerous the mountains were, and how easily a helpless girl could be kidnapped. 

Sakura snorted. “How awful. That’s just like him. What’s the job?”

“He said it’d take two days and that I should bring a cloak.”

Sai looked sharply at him. “Scouting the mine.” 

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna go?”

“Yeah.”  The mission revision came in by messenger bird this morning. He tossed it to Sai first, by habit. 

"Who do we think is behind the attack?” Sai unfurled the scroll.

Sakura tapped her lip. “It had have been someone he’s known for at least a month, since they knew about the restaurant and took the documents. I think there are three possibilities.” She ticked them off her fingers. “One, someone from his household-- Tanaka, the servants. Two, a business rival, likely one of the guests last night. Three, another village, most likely Iwa, since he contracted them first. They might’ve even sent an undercover team like us, probably last month when they received the contract, they’re probably gone by now. Or any combination of the three.” Shrewd green eyes turned to look at him. “What do you think?”

A strange feeling settled into his chest. “Yeah.”

Sai nodded and passed the new mission scroll to Sakura. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Sakura scanned it.  “This council is _unbelievable_.” 

Sasuke doubted that Higa's formal offer to Konoha was met with anything less than eager anticipation. For all their airs of morality, the new elders inherited the ruthless pragmatism of their predecessors. That he wasn't locked behind bars was a testament to the lengths they would go to maintain Konoha's influence within the Shinobi Union. 

"Higa's offer is good news for the village," Sai said. "And for us-- he wouldn't request Konoha shinobi if he suspected the two of you."

“So we’re staying?” she asked, a little glum. “The mission’s still on?”

Sasuke nodded. With crystal gem on the market, Konoha was no longer interested in dissolving financial ties with Higa. Rather, the opposite. Their new mission was to figure out as much as they could about Higa’s contracts with the other villages. They were also to work in the shadows and protect the warlord until the new, legitimate team from Konoha arrived. 

“Did you hear back about Scorpion?” Sakura asked.

Sai nodded. “We’re reclassified this mission to S-class."

“How come?” 

He passed a red Bingo Book to her— Suna’s redacted version. “Scorpion,” she read. “Age estimated between twenty-five and forty. Conflicting reports of appearance. User of _jiton_ , an advanced chakra nature bloodline ability that converts chakra into magnetic forces.” Sakura frowned. "I've seen Gaara use this in the war. Nasty stuff. Why don’t they share their data with us?”

"Keep flipping," Sai said.

Sakura sifted through another handful of S-ranked nuke-nin and came to a halt. Her eyebrows shot up. "What?" She flipped the book to Sasuke, and his own sixteen-year-old face stared back. "They still have you listed!" 

His blood went cold.

The photo was captured during the Kage Summit. He scowled at something off-frame, blood smeared over his cheeks. 

Sasuke’s memories of those years persisted in ruthless definition _._ Itachi's eyes overwhelmed his senses until all that remained was instinct. The rage was visceral— the clench of his chest, the heat of his blood— 

Sakura's throat in his fist.  How easily he’d ripped her off the ground in one hand. The annoying girl, self-sacrificing and kind, watching him with desolate green eyes. How dare she give up on him? 

_Do you even know what I want?_

_It doesn't matter. I'll do whatever you say!_

At their table, those same eyes roved the irrefutable proof of his past. _Stop it. Close the book._

"This is completely unwarranted.” Sakura tore the page out of the Bingo Book and shredded it between her fingers. “I’m going to have a word with Gaara at the next Union meeting. You were exonerated years ago." 

She looked at him, pretty eyes fierce with protectiveness, and something worn and rusted moved in his chest, as it had last night. Sasuke turned away. 

“Are we done here?” Sai asked, seeming to realize what he’d incited.

“Yeah," Sasuke said. "We need to recover and examine the bodies. Whoever else comes with me.” 

Sai and Sakura looked at each other. "You should go," Sai said. "You'll never find your way out of Higa’s basement.”

Sakura’s gaze cooled. “Are you implying I’m bad with directions?”

“No, Hag. I’m saying you are.”

Sakura was indignant. “I’m staying.” 

“We don’t have time for a search and rescue—”

Sasuke scowled. “You, stay. You, come with me.” 

Sakura’s eyes widened, and too late, he realized he’d pointed at the wrong people. _Fuck._ She turned to Sai. “Have you done an autopsy before?”

“I’ll seal them for when you get back.” 

“Fine,” she huffed. “For the record, I’m great with directions.” 

“Sure.” 

Sakura drew chakra to her fist. Sai vanished from the patio. 

The bright morning sun beamed down at the vast expanse of the rooftop, and all the events of last night-- everything he'd told her in that tiny, dark corner-- seemed like a disastrous lapse in judgement.

“How's your back?" she asked. 

As if on cue, a fresh wave of pain sent his back muscles into spasm. Sasuke clenched his jaw. “It’s fine.” He should’ve accepted Higa’s offer of his own medic, Festering injuries on a mission were a liability. but he’d refused out of spite. In hindsight, the blow to his ego was preferable to Sakura.

Bleeding out was preferable to Sakura.

“It’s soaking through your shirt,” she said, circling him. “You got hurt from shielding me. Let me help.”

Like _hell_ he was letting her _—_

“Please, Sasuke-kun,” she whispered.

His arms moved of their own accord.

Before he knew it, he’d pulled his shirt overhead.

Sakura made quick work of his haphazard attempt at dressing the wounds. "You call this _fine_? One day, this tough guy act is going to get you an infection.”  Cool pressure settled between his shoulder blades, and the swath of skin from his shoulders to his waist went numb. Chips of glass clinked to the gravel, and the waistband of his pants grew damp.

Sasuke couldn’t talk, consumed with dread of what was to come.

“Let's see how tough you are when I lop off your gangrened leg, and you're stumbling around on crutches,” she muttered.  Her chakra eased into his skin like warm nostalgia. A sun-soaked summer spent chasing cats, the wind through the leaves on training ground four, the aroma of ramen on a cold, winter night. 

His shoulders crept to his ears. The intimacy set his teeth on edge. He was accustomed to absolute control. Here, his every pulse and breath were laid bare and naked for her scrutiny. Nowhere to hide.  The numbness faded.

Sensation hit him like a tidal wave. 

Her breath fanned hot against his skin, and her little hands kneaded along his spine. She was under his skin, inside his flesh, inexorable.  “How’s that feel?” She was too short to talk into his ear, but he shuddered regardless. 

“Fine,” he choked out.

“There’s a lot back here. Old cuts,” she said. He could hear the accusation in her voice. Sakura never left scars. It was a point of pride for her. He didn’t care about scars from lesser-skilled medic-nin if it would spare him the slow torture of this. 

She returned to his front, standing just under his chin. The aroma of jasmine petals and warm vanilla engulfed him. His mouth watered, the reaction so ludicrous he held his breath. 

It’d never been this bad, but he’d never gone this long before.

“You should be more careful.” She dragged her palms down his chest. “I won’t always be around.”

His brain was slowly detaching itself from the anchor points inside his skull. “You will,” he told her. She would be around forever.

She looked at him strangely. “I meant when you’re traveling.” 

Her plump lips were inches from his. If he bent down, he could kiss her again. Her hands went to his navel, and twin lines of fire shot straight to his groin. She was doing this on purpose— she had to be. There was no way she did this with all her patients. A parade of faceless, male shinobi came to mind, eagerly waiting for her to touch their bare skin like this, and Sasuke seethed. 

He tore away. In the brief moment of mental clarity, he remembered that he didn’t have injuries on his stomach. “What are you doing?” he growled. 

Her eyes widened. “Oh, sorry. You had a bunch of old scars. I figured I’d just get them while we were at it.” 

Air returned to his lungs. His head cleared. He furiously tugged his shirt back on. He needed to get the hell out. 

“Um, about last night…” she said.

“What about it?”

She blinked. “You _kissed_ me.”

She wanted an explanation. She deserved one. “It was nothing ,” he said. “ Forget it.”

Hurt flashed through her eyes. “Really?” 

He held a blade to her throat. Hurled lightning at her back. Stood and watched while Madara eviscerated her with a sword. Sasuke opened his mouth and no words came out. 

Hurt melted into disappointment. “Fine,” she mumbled, and he nearly told her. Told her everything, like he’d done in the alcove, spilling secrets that should’ve never been shared because he couldn’t last another second without her hands on him. Forlorn green eyes bored into him. “See you in Aizu.”

He nodded.

When she was gone, he slapped on his bracers. _Well done, Sasuke._ He yanked the straps so hard the leather ate into his flesh. What the hell was he thinking last night? 

This mission demanded immediate proximity of the two of them, and he was constantly on edge. Sakura found all the cracks in his self-control and poured herself inside, like water trickling into a stone wall. Wearing him down until all that remained was the ill-fated truth:

Sasuke wanted a woman he had no right to want. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for 6 years, that was the final line of this story 😅


	8. The Insincere Supplicant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura crosses the tundra; Sasuke pretends.

The Six Sisters stood in sombre watch over the red wasteland, snow-capped peaks gleaming like knives. The foot of the sierra was an unpoliced No Man’s Land, formed of uninhabited plateaus and treacherous roads. Aizu, the cluster of civilization nearest Higa’s mine, was thirty miles ahead, all the way through the tundra at the foot of the Little Sister.

Sakura tore ahead. _It was nothing._ Delicate, red clovers matted the ground, and she trampled through like a bull. _Forget it._ The ground ahead dropped off into a deep gorge crossed by a rope bridge, and she tore across the planks. The bridge vibrated with the force of her steps. 

It wasn’t his words that hurt. It was his kiss. He’d kissed her so earnestly that in one fleeting moment, he’d convinced her that he felt something for her too .  The wind picked up, and Sakura’s eyes stung with grit. _Fine_.  Two could play . She’d treat him how he wanted— like any other teammate. 

A metallic blur whistled through the air. Sakura dropped, and it detonated in dry lichen. The ring of fire illuminated a broad-shouldered man wearing the a Kumo headband.

“You're quick,” he growled, clasping his hands in _Dragon._ Lightning? 

Sakura rummaged through her weapons pouch and hurled. Senbon lodged between the small bones of his hands. 

His seal broke. He cursed and tugged the needles with his teeth. “He’th ofer here—!”

Sakura's punch caught him in the sternum. Hard metal met her knuckles. His chest plate groaned in protest and yielded. He coughed and doubled over. From her right came the telltale whistle of shuriken— another man. Sakura gripped the wheezing assailant by the throat, ripped off his armor, and flung it at the weapons. The clang of steel-on-steel was deafening against the soft crackling of fire.

"Shit, he's Leaf," her captive choked. “Tell the boss!"

With a grimace, Sakura twisted his neck. The other ninja fled through the plumes of smoke. Sakura dug her heels in the dirt and aimed a punch at the ground, felt the skin of her knuckles split against hard bedrock. The ninja lost his footing. She dropped her full weight to his chest and pinned him. "What boss?"

He skimmed her face. 

Too late, Sakura realized her mask was gone. "What boss?" she repeated.

"Sweetheart," he gritted out, face pale with pain, "I can—“

Sakura pressed a kunai to his collarbone. 

" _Scorpion_ Scorpion—” 

"Where is he?"

“I don’t know! I’m new. He recruited me a couple days ago . I haven’t seen him since.“ He saw his companion’s body and cursed.

Sakura faltered. He kicked her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. His hands flew through a series of seals. The air thickened with humidity, and every hair on her arm stood on end. Sheer instinct prompted her to jump back, before a bolt of lightning split the ground that she'd been standing on. 

The moon was gone under a blanket of thunderheads. She’d seen Sasuke use a similar technique in the war, _Kirin_ , the black skies birthing a great dragon of pure electricity. She had one shot— chakra hot in her calves, Sakura lunged. He toppled under her weight, and she drove the kunai into his  neck . 

He gurgled, blood welling in his mouth, and fell silent. The clouds dissipated.

Sakura gagged. Taking lives always turned her stomach. She avoided it whenever she could, and always hesitated when she couldn’t— another reason she wasn’t cut out for ANBU. Briskly, she disposed of the two corpses and resumed her sprint.

* * *

The  rest of the journey to Aizu was peaceful, apart for the rapidly chilling temperature as she ascended in altitude. Higa was staying at small inn was situated against the mountainside. Sakura scaled up the side and climbed onto Sasuke’s balcony railing. 

_Absolute professionalism, Haruno._

"Hello?" 

The door was already open and she stepped inside. Everything in his room was meticulously placed: his boots laced on the mat, his uniform folded, his equipment— bracers, weapons, scabbard— arranged in a row on the table. Despite it being a short trip, he’d hung his clothes on hangars. Although the room was temporary lounging, she felt like she’d gotten a rare glimpse into his private life. 

Sasuke shut the door. He passed his gaze over her, taking in the flyaway hair, dusty jacket, and undershirt damp with more sweat than she cared to admit. She dared him to comment, swinging her heavy pack to the ground. 

"What did you find?” he asked. 

“It was a commodity report.” She dug through her backpack for the copy Sai made of the silk scroll that Higa’d left in the library. "The points are years, and the line is _ryo_ per carat.” 

As Sasuke read, she kicked off her boots, shed the jacket, and peeled off her cargo pants. It’d been so cold outside, she was glad she’d layered leggings underneath. 

Sasuke cleared his throat. “The price hitched ten years ago?”

“Yeah. We found an article on a mine collapse in Lightning.” she said. “It used to be one of the top producers. After the accident, it never recovered.“ Crystal gem was always rare, but the incident propelled it to an ore of myth. 

Sasuke walked to the table. To her surprise, he handed her a glass of water. “Why did it collapse?”

She hadn’t realized how dry her throat was. “It caught fire. No culprit was identified, and Kumo denied involvement.” Sakura drained the glass. “Speaking of, we have to send them a report. I ran into a pair of their missing-nin on the way here.”

His eyes roved her exposed skin for injuries as she relayed the details. “He used lightning?” 

She nodded.

“Were you injured?” 

“Nope. Just some scratches.” She showed him her knuckles.

He examined her hand. “These look deep,” he said.

 _What? It didn’t even hurt._ “They’re nothing.” She looked: unblemished skin. Oops— she’d already healed the scrapes. Her eyes darted to his. Was he _teasing_ her? “I think you need your eyes checked.”

“My eyes are working fine.” 

Her heart fluttered.  “Are you challenging a professional?”

His voice dipped so low it rattled her spine. “I don’t see a professional.”

Sakura was supposed to be mad at him, but it was hard to think when  he was raking his gaze down her front so hungrily.  “What do you see?” 

His eyes  met hers, and he seemed to catch himself. All the warmth evaporated from his face.  Abruptly, he shoved a bath towel—materialized from thin air— into her arms. “Go shower. ”

_Well._ No tender moments with Uchiha- _taichou_. 

Sakura made her way to the washroom at a snail’s pace, touching as many of his belongings as she could along the way. On the dresser, he’d laid out the contents of his weapons pouch: kunai, explosive tags, smoke bombs. She examined a coil of wires. “You still use these?” 

His face betrayed nothing, but she knew her meandering exploration  got on his nerves.  “They’re not the same ones.” 

_Good._ She hoped he hadn’t kept the ones that touched Orochimaru. “That was a long time ago, huh?”

“Wash up so you can sleep.”

Sakura slumped towards the washroom before remembering her clothes were all in her backpack. It was the one spot of disarray in his perfect room, apart from her path of destruction. “I didn’t know you were this tidy .”

“Habit.” 

She didn’t want to leave. “My apartment is a mess.”

“It’s not.” 

“That’s just the kitchen.” She cleaned religiously before his appointments. “Wait until you see my bedroom,” she said casually.

“ _Sakura_. _Go_ ,” he grit out. 

She hid a  smile but followed his orders.  As she ran the shower,  a thought occurred.  Did he think  think it was nothing, or did he want _her_ to think that? She lathered up the soap, and thought about his bewildering behavior. No,  she deserved answers. 

What was the harm in trying?

* * *

For the first time in Sasuke’s life, he longed for Sai. Sai would’ve handed him the scroll, showered in two minutes, and left. They both would’ve been asleep by now. Instead, Sasuke was sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at a scroll that was written in a foreign language, and unwillingly attuned to the sound of her showering.

The water stopped. His hands fisted in the coverlet. Everything about her was troublesome. When she came out, he was going to set things straight. From now on, they were teammates. Captain and subord—

The door to the bath opened. 

Her hair was clean and wet, painted against the curve of her neck. Droplets of water ran down her collarbones to the towel knotted around the swells of her breasts. Beneath the hem of the bath towel, her thighs were beaded with moisture.

His mouth went dry. 

“Can I borrow a shirt?” she asked. “Mine is filthy.” 

“Closet,” was all he managed. 

She used his soap. The scent was inexplicably mouthwatering on her. “Any one of these?” she asked. 

The hammer started back against his ribs. _Yes,_ he wanted to snap. _Take one and get out._ She dropped her towel, and all his remaining capacity for coherent language fled.

_—her tight waist pinned beneath his arm, those taut thighs wrapped around his ears—_

Sakura slipped a shirt on. “It smells like you.”

“Sorry.” 

“No, I like it. It’s soft.” She smoothed the fabric over her chest, stopping at the curve of her breasts. “Oh, the scroll fell… Sasuke-kun?” 

His name was the last straw. His name on her tongue while she stood in his shirt. That strange feeling in his chest, the one that he’d spent years beating into submission, reared its bestial head, and all the ugly and irrational thoughts buried deep in his consciousness swelled and crested to surface.

_Say it again. Never say another’s._

“What’s wrong?” she asked.  


She approached the bed. His feet were rooted to the ground. It wasn’t until he saw her eyelashes tangled at the corners with moisture that he realized he was standing.

“You never answered my question,” she said. 

_Touch me._

The corners of her lips curled treacherously, as though she heard his thoughts. Her thumb grazed his bottom lip, setting his skin on fire. “Do you know what I think?”

There was a protocol for this. He could step away, admonish her for overstepping professional boundaries. Explain that her judgement was clouded by exhaustion. Recommend that she prioritize her sleep.

She rose to her toes, molding herself entirely to his chest. Her words were crushed velvet in his ear. ”I think you want to kiss me again.“

His traitor hands locked on her hips, tugging her closer. His eyes closed, and Sasuke allowed himself to sink into the sweetness of her kiss. One more. One moment of indulgence, and he’d go back to steel restraint and propriety.

Her tongue darted across the seam of his mouth, cautious at first, then with a boldness that crumpled the last of his resolve. Sasuke lifted her and groaned at the heat of her core against the front of his pants, a jolting reminder that she wasn’t wearing anything under his shirt. This had to be a dream, but hell if he wanted to wake up. 

He laid her on the sheets. At some point after he joined ANBU, during one of their torturous appointments, he started to imagine her in bed. Was she sweet and gentle, like she was at work, or wild and passionate, like she was in battle? It was a plague on his sanity. He’d tried everything— reciting the _Bansenshukai_ , biting his cheeks until he tasted blood, sating himself on someone else before seeing her— nothing helped. Eventually he gave up. She’d heal a cut his neck, graze his throat, and he’d imagine doing disrespectful things to her on her kitchen counter. 

_Damn it._ What was he doing? 

He sat up. Guileless green eyes met his, as though she hadn’t meant it to go this far either. His chest clenched. He knew— there wasn’t any meaning to her touches. Knew she was innocent. He was the one living in his own head. But as irrational as it was, when she smiled at him, he felt like the only man in the world. Like she meant what she’d said, all those years ago. Like his most selfish fantasy, born of the nights he felt the most alone and lost, was real.

_You’re mine._

He tried to climb off her, but an invisible force held him in place. Sakura took his left hand and pressed it over the drumming of her heart, each staccato beat a false promise of the future he'd destroyed with its predecessor.

_Yes. Yes. Yes._

Sasuke could tell reality apart from delusion better than anyone, but for tonight, he closed his eyes and let himself pretend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tldr Sakura is an Ares and Sasuke is a Leo


	9. Petrichor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura challenges Sasuke; Sasuke ventures deep underground

When Sakura fought, her brain shut down. The first time she’d used _Strength of a Hundred_ in battle was against the Ten-Tailed beast. She remembered drawing chakra to her fist, the roars of the fission monsters fading away to the singular pulse of blood in her ears. Then, nothing. It wasn’t until the dust settled around the felled army that she’d realized she’d struck and it _worked._

She had the same feeling of awakening from a dream as she watched Sasuke undo the knot of his robe. How had they ended up in bed together? He shrugged it off, unveiling the hard ropes of muscle in his shoulders, the carved planes of his chest, and her cheeks flamed.

She outlined the ridges and hollows of his ribs, the seals he’d accumulated over the years to protect himself, marked like a living weapon. She remembered when his skin was bare. 

“Hurry up.”

The demand in his voice made her smile. She looked up, and her heart lept to her throat. “Y-your eyes.”

His brows furrowed. His spinning irises ground to a halt, but his eyes stayed red as blood. “Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. 

She paused. He looked… how she felt. _He wanted her too._ The revelation sent her heart pounding, felt precipitous, like she was standing at the edge of the cliff overlooking a bottomless ocean.

Instinct took over. With a twist of her hips, she flipped him to his back. On occasion, when he was particularly exhausted, Sakura thought she caught his eyes wandering. She'd chalked it up to her imagination, but the hardness cradled between her thighs told her otherwise. 

_Fall, fall, fall._

She planted her hands on his shoulders, and experimented with a slow roll of her hips, the decadent friction a bellows to the burning hearth at her core. He hissed at the contact, his hand tight on her hip. But she did it again, and he cursed and pushed her off.

“What? Why?”

He palmed the sheets, as if to wipe any trace of her skin away. “We can’t.” His gaze went to the window and she had the sense that if he weren’t obliged to the mission, he would’ve taken off. 

Guilt cut sharp through the haze of her desire. _The mission._ What was she doing, wantonly climbing on top of him?

Hurriedly, she pulled on her uniform, shivering in the draft from the window. She missed his heat, his touch, but this was how it was between them. Push and pull. Ebb and flow. Maybe it was selfish, but she wanted closure. “Why not?” she asked. 

“Sakura.”

Her lips parted. Did he feel it too? The invisible thread twisting between them, since the start of the mission, tighter and tighter. They’d known each other a decade, yet each passing day here, she uncovered another piece of him. His quiet protectiveness. Muted vulnerability. Passion. “You want it too.” 

_Deny it. Say I’m wrong._

Sasuke studied his hands, as if a glance in her direction would spell disaster. “You don't know what you're asking for.”

“I do.” Sakura swung her pack on. "Do you?"

* * *

Candidate selection for ANBU involved, among other requirements, an assessment of mental fortitude. Sasuke was told a number— _twenty-eight,_ he still remembered— and made to relive his nightmares until his legs gave out, and his nails cut bloody crescents into his palms. At the end of the week, _twenty-eight_ was still his own. His examiners ceded, commending him for his iron-clad will and self-discipline. 

But fuck it. He was beyond forgiveness.

Sasuke buried his face in the pillow, inhaling the last of her scent, and palmed his aching cock. His skin still tingled with the heat of her on top of him, her long hair trailing his chest, green eyes dark with desire, like she wanted him, _him, only him._ His release came quickly, with a harsh draw of breath.  When it was over, he walked to the washroom. He turned the shower spray as cold as it would go and rinsed away the evidence. Lathered the soap up, thinking about the last person to use it, and how tomorrow, he’d look her in the eye and tell her it was all a mistake. She’d tell him _fine_ like she meant it, and he wouldn’t feel a thing. He was good at severing bonds; he’d done it before, and he’d do it again.

Sasuke turned the shower spray off. The tiles were cool against his face. He wanted to laugh. Itachi was right— he was a fool.

The inn room lightened with the first cyanotic fingers of the sun, stretching past the mountain peak before the window. He exited the inn to the front gates, joining the two waiting men.

One was stooped and ominous, his features hidden by a beard as ruddy as his flak jacket. The other was wiry, like a green spring twig, with suspicious eyes. Both wore headbands bearing the insignia of Stone. The thin Iwa-nin nodded wordlessly, silence belying a subtle assessment of the sword at his belt.

Higa appeared shortly after, his wolf-pelt fur wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Without words, they set off. The mine was located at the base of the smallest mountain in the range, the Little Sister. It was mere morning's journey by foot, but the mountain pass wound under precipitous slopes prone to avalanches of ice and sediment. Rock rain, the locals called it. No one had used the pass in decades, and it was overgrown with lichen and moss.

Based on what they’d overheard, Higa had contracted two elite squads of Iwa-nin to clear the path with chakra. The two chunin escorting them now were insurance. At the mouth of the mountain pass, they split off to clear the boulders off the road ahead.

Once they were out of earshot, Higa said, “A taciturn pair.”

“Do you always hire from Iwa?” Sasuke asked. He must’ve negotiated a deal with the Tsuchikage. 

“I prefer their techniques. Nanami told me you completed an apprenticeship. Who trained you to use chakra?”

“My father.” 

Higa's boots crunched through the frozen layer of topsoil, leaving heavy footprints. “Was he from Ishikagure?”

“It collapsed before he was alive.” 

“Ah, you're young. How did you get into procuring?”

_A test._ Sasuke trudged on.

Higa smiled. “Forgive me, it was a rude inquiry. I'm quite pleased with Nanami. She won my medic over."

"She's had training."

"She saved my life."

Sasuke rolled his shoulders. Did Higa think he'd secured special favor from Sakura? She was a bleeding heart who would rescue a stuck pig from a farm. 

“She's interesting. I can’t tell what she’s thinking, and I’m something of a savant of human intentions,” Higa declared. 

Sakura’s patience with this man was endless. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You two must’ve been on the road together for quite some time. Southern Earth is quite a ways from Kuzu.”

There was no subtlety in his interrogation. “I’m her procurer.“

“You must’ve been tempted.” 

Something like a knife scraping down Sasuke's spine. “I’ve never thought of her that way,” he said woodenly. Hard to believe there was a time in his life that he never lied.

"If only all my procurers had your restraint." Higa's countenance lightened. “I admit, I’m relieved.”

The knife was back at his spine. When Sakura seduced Higa, would she kiss him sweetly and ride his hips too? Would she wear his gifts?  His hand shot to the hilt of his sword. The bare skin of Higa’s neck called. 

Sasuke willed the black fury in his chest to abate. _Not now._ Not when he was alone with the warlord, with no one to hold him accountable. Sakura couldn’t sleep with this louse. They’d figure something else out, Sasuke decided.

Sasuke and Higa walked in stony silence until they came to the entrance of the mine, concentric rings carved into the hard mountain ground. A tall head-frame made of reinforced steel stood at the center of the rings, marking the top of the mine shaft. The two Iwa-nin rejoined their group, dropping from the rocky terrain above.

The taller of the Iwa-nin spoke, "The shaft fits three men. He can wait out here."

Higa said, "He comes with me."

The two Stone nin exchanged a glance. The bearded man spoke. "The lift is powered by an Earth technique. You want to go down with one operator?"

"I'll take my chances."

The taller Iwa-nin handed Sasuke a lantern and a filtration mask. Higa strapped on a mask of his own, and the three men stepped onto the lift platform over the mine shaft. Sakura would not be able to reach him once he was inside. The bearded man whipped through twenty or so hand seals and unleashed a burst of chakra. With a crack, the ground around them came to life, pulsing rhythmically like a great length of bowel. Thousands of feet of dirt sped past as they descended, the bright white of the sky shrinking to a moon-like orb in a black sky.

When the platform ground to a halt, they were in an underground cave, twenty feet wide and two arms lengths high. The air here was thick, smelled of clay and rot even through the mask. His eyes stung with fumes. Besides the lantern in his hand and sparse light from the mine shaft, it was pitch dark.

The Iwa-nin walked to the cave wall, as if reading the contours of the rocks. He drew chakra to his palm.

"No," Higa said, turning to Sasuke. "You do it."

Sasuke drew a small amount of chakra to his hand and touched the cave wall. The cold stone warmed immediately under his fingertips. At his point of contact, a spot of light began to shine from within the wall. It brightened until it was the size of a fist, and from it, a web of light spread like blood flowing through the veins and capillaries. Sasuke felt heady rush of familiar chakra reflected back to him: his own. Resonating through the cave, reverting from the thousands of crystal gem clusters, embedded in the rock.

Higa's eyes glowed in the green-yellow light with positive glee.

Even the Iwa-nin gaped. "I've never seen it in person. How does it feel?"

Sasuke removed his hand from the wall. Instantly, the threads of light streaking through the walls dimmed, and they were plunged in darkness.

As she crossed the mountain path, ascending the near-vertical slope of the rock wall, Sakura counted her blessings. The lush foliage of Konoha hid tallest of nin. But here, the barren rocks left her and potential bandits with equally sparse coverage. She tailed Higa's group from a hundred feet up the rock ledge, circling from above at the entrance to the mine.

The four men, all cloaked, paused beneath the head-frame to converse. Sasuke immediately stood out to her, his black hair a stark contrast against the white of the the frozen ground. Color rose in her cheeks at the mere sight of him. 

The more she thought about last night, the more she regretted her actions. Tsunade had always chastised her for impatience. He’d clearly had reservations about her.

Higa and Sasuke donned masks and descended the mineshaft with the bearded Iwa-nin. The younger Iwa-nin waited at the surface for a length, inspecting the mine periphery, until he jumped onto the very rock ledge that concealed her position. Sakura shrank back and followed his path up the mountain.

There were too few footholds in this mountain for ordinary masons to grapple. The mine undoubtedly been carved by ninjutsu. The Iwa-nin stopped at a steel cylinder twenty feet in diameter, protruding from the stone. It was the ventilation shaft, piping fresh air to all the mine. He rummaged through his pockets and brought his hands together. _Snake, tiger, dragon._

_No._

Sakura drew chakra to her foot. Bright chakra flared from his clasped hands, and a curtain of earth swelled from around the cylinder. The steel groaned, compressing under the pressure. Mere seconds before Sakura lunged, the earth froze and flattened. The Iwa-nin collapsed, eyes glassy. Blood trailed from a kunai in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words 🥺 I can't tell you how hard I smile reading your comments <3
> 
> 2/6 rewrite comments: why did i make everyone shower so much


	10. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura and Sasuke meet at the market.

The air thickened with the scent of limestone and sulfur. Sasuke called his bloodline limit to surface, and the darkness of the cave took shape. Where sunlight previously streamed through ceiling was sealed with freshly-shifted earth, like a curtain over a spotlight. They didn't have long before the air ran out.

The Iwa-nin lunged for Higa. With unexpected foresight, the warlord unsheathed a short-sword drawn from his waist. His blind parry caught the nin by surprise.

In that split second, Sasuke caught the assailant by the neck and cast his genjutsu.

In his illusory cave, coils of dirt circled the Iwa-nin's legs as thick serpents, binding his chest and arms. The clay snakes lifted him off the ground and held him, spread eagled, at eye level with Sasuke.

"This technique… Are you ANBU?" The wide eyes that stared from under generous brows betrayed his age: nineteen at the most.

Sasuke parted the man's beard with the tip of his sword. "Tell me what you're after."

"You must have been deployed before the briefing." The man thrashed against his restrains. "We're on the same side. This is a classified mission straight from the Tsuchikage."

Sasuke sheathed his sword, and the serpents at the captive's arms sprouted fangs. With a hiss, they sank into the fleshy caps of his shoulders. The Iwa-nin yelped. "They know if you lie," Sasuke said.

"Okay! …It _was_ a mission" Blood welling from his puncture wounds and soaked his jacket. "B-ranked, with another squad of Jonin. We made Chunin in August, after the exams. " He laughed, without humor. "It was Mako's second try, my third. We barely survived. And all for what? Moving rocks for a rich man."

The Iwa-nin stopped thrashing, but Sasuke could see the sheen of sweat on his brow even in the darkness .

"One night, when it was just Mako and I excavating, he approached us."

"Scorpion."

The Iwa-nin froze. "You know about him? Then you know what he's capable of."

Sasuke was impassive. "What did he want?"

At his silence, the snakes came to life, forked tongues darting out toward the skin of his neck. "He wanted our help! He knows what Higa intends to do with this mine. Dice up the gemstone and pass it out to the shinobi nations like candy in exchange for a few measly _ryo_. Mako and I were going to take him out down here, real quiet."

Between the sulfuric fumes rising from the exposed hard rock and the poor flow of oxygen down the mine corridor, no one would suspect an unconditioned merchant losing his bearings and hitting his head. And certainly not accompanied by commissioned officers from Iwagakure.

"What did he offer you in exchange?"

"You felt it earlier. This stuff is raw power. A single carat magnifies the user's chakra ten-fold. And there must be nearly two tons of unrefined gemstone in here." His brown eyes gleamed. "Think of what you could _do_ with that."

"You'd leave your village?"

The Iwa-nin licked his lips. "Scorpion offered us a seat at the table. He intends to finish what Kazuzu started."

Sasuke's eyes narrowed. Kazuzu was a bounty hunter first and a black market dealer second. He had no aspirations for being in the spotlight, seeking membership in Akatsuki for that reason.

"I was always ordinary Bakuto. Chunin is probably as far as I'll get, no matter how hard I train. But with crystal gem and Scorpion's power..." His eyes glinted with tenacity.

Sasuke knew that look all too well. At thirteen, he'd chased the siren song of power from the village of Sound to the ends of the Earth, madness at his own heels. Orochimaru. Itachi. Obito. Konoha _._ Each act of vengeance, each kill sated his cursed hatred temporarily, while driving a pike into his chest. At the time, he welcomed the pain. It quieted the voice that whispered _you are alone in this world. You have no one._

"I'd give anything for power," the man said. "Wouldn't you?"

In another life, he might have listened to Naruto. Turned back to the village and grown up with his classmates. Lived an ordinary life and when Sakura reached for him, he would not have to pull away.

Scanning the Iwa-nin's mind, Sasuke recreated the people of his memories. A ruddy-faced man with a stocky build and a great bushel beard. A woman in her sixties with brown eyes and stooped shoulders. A boy of twelve, with bright red cheeks and scabbed knees. A golden-haired kunoichi, with laughing eyes and a wide smile. And more. People came to being as the illusion cave expanded to accommodate the occupants.

But the Iwa-nin was focused on the occupants. "Father?"

Sasuke walked behind the older man and shoved him down to his knees. A hiss of splitting flesh and blood sprayed onto the ground. The body fell to the ground.

"No, Father!"

Sasuke moved on to the woman. One by one, he cut their throats, while the cave rang with the Iwa-nin's pleads. When he finished, he wiped the blade of _Kusanagi_ clean on the Iwa-nin's flak jacket, crimson red indistinguishable from the rust-colored fabric.

Tears streaked down the man's face, soaking into his beard. For the first time, in the dozens of times he'd done this, Sasuke felt a twinge of… something. What would Sakura think of his interrogation techniques? She could never know, he decided. This darkness was a part of himself that he could never let her see again.

"We can do this again," Sasuke said. "Or you can tell me about Scorpion."

Hoarse, the man recounted what he knew. The Scorpion was raised by wealthy civilian parents in a mountain village in the Land of Lightning. He defected after engineering an accident that killed hundreds of innocents. The Scorpion never showed his face, but he was of menacing stature with black hair. It corroborated information from the Bingo books and Sakura's intel.

Sasuke released the genjutsu and lifted his sword once more, this time to the Bakuto's throat. To onlookers, the genjutsu would have been imperceptible, transpiring within the space of a single breath's time.

"Take us up," Sasuke commanded.

Bakuto did not notice the shift in the fabric of his reality. With shaking hands, he formed seals, and the column of mud plugging the mine shaft fell away. Light and crisp mountain air cut through the darkness of the cave. Higa squinted, and Sasuke deactivated his Sharingan, moving with the captive onto the platform. They ascended thousands of feet until the were once again level with the ground.

The western sky was deep blue and cloudless. The sun was a welcome sight, shining directly overhead and refracting off the snow-capped slopes of the Little Sister. Two figures dropped from the mountain ledge. One deposited a body at Higa's feet— Mako, the Iwa-nin who had stayed above ground.

The other motioned for Sasuke to release Bakuto to him. At Higa's nod, Sasuke sheathed his sword. The nin encased Bakuto's body in an earthen shell. With a kunai, he sliced the fabric knot of his forehead protector.

The two figures bowed deeply. "Our deepest apologies, Higa-sama. Rest assured that this matter will be investigated with urgency. We hope that our continued dutiful service may restore the honor of Iwagakure in your eyes."

"Hope is a curious thing," Higa said, reaching for Mako's weapons pouch. "It can be a candle that leads you out of darkness or a shroud before your eyes. It steals your sense and robs you of your wits." He poured out its contents: scrolls, shuriken and a fistful of limestone, yellow-green flecks glinting in the sun. "Tell the Tsuchikage that I do not take lightly to theft."

The two nin looked at each other. "They will face their crimes in court—"

"Kill him," Higa ordered. "Here and now, or Iwa will not see a _crumb_ when production begins."

"No-" Bakuto cried, but his voice was muffled by the collar of earth that rose from the shell, encasing him completely. He shouted for a few more moments, and then silence. The mulch shell broke into pieces, and Bakuto's body crumbled next to Mako's.

Courtesy dictated that each village maintained ANBU to carry out assassinations of their respective defectors. Exceptions were made on a case-by-case basis, but Sasuke was glad to have been spared the task.

Higa removed his ventilator mask. He must've been tipped off. "I trust you gentlemen to clean up here," he said to the Iwa jonin.

Sasuke pulled off his own masked and pocketed it, grateful for the pure mountain wind purged the dust from his lungs.

"Shall we return, Kyouya?"

* * *

There was no draft in the ventilation shaft.

Sakura could not figure it out. After the young Iwa-nin fell, two men in cloaks collected his corpse and left. They paid no attention to the crushed metal vent. Sakura had pushed and pried, pounded the metal with her fists until her knuckles were numb against the frosted steel. All underground mines required air circulation for temperature control and to remove the noxious gases freed from limestone. But the air here smelled crisp and clean. And even when Sakura had hammered the cylinder to its original diameter, where it was surely patent, _there was still no draft._

It had taken all her willpower not to uproot the entire damned thing from the ground. Sakura dropped from the mountain ledge, returning to the entrance of the mine. The head-frame was as deserted as she'd left it. Neither Higa, Sasuke or the Iwa-nin had yet surfaced. Sakura sprinted back down the mountain pass. _He will be fine,_ she thought. Sasuke was captain for a reason, and she needed to trust him.

After thirty minutes, the inn was in sight. Sakura clambered up the brick facade, digging her fingers into the cement mortar. She found Riku in Higa's corner suite, pulling on a wolf-pelt cloak. What sorts of questions had she asked Kaede at their dinner last month? Sakura disguised her appearance and followed Riku into town, towards the market.

Aizu's bazaar was the center of local life, a wide swath of flattened tundra flanked by natural hummocks that defended the plaza from wind. Villagers ambled through the narrow streets in their thick cloaks, while peddlers sang their wares of salted mackerel, sweet rice sake, and painted ceramics. The sweet scent of freshly baked bread filled the air.

Riku approached a cosmetics stall and examined a silver-capped jar. Sakura followed, occupying herself with the other items on display.

"Yes, beauty! That's my wife's famous facial essence," the shopkeeper exclaimed from under an awning of coated canvas. "Crafted with pure water from the Little Sister."

Riku set it down.

"Use it every night, and your complexion will never dull. Your skin will never wrinkle." The shopkeeper grinned. "Your husband will never have eyes for another!"

Riku fixed her gaze upon the shopkeeper. "If my husband had eyes for another, he would find himself in short need of a wife. In fact, my husband should count his blessings if he lives long enough to behold me age at all."

The shopkeeper flushed and retreated to organize stock in the far end of the cart. Riku picked up a tiny pot of rouge and dipped the brush in. To Sakura, she declared, "Every time a man opens his mouth, a woman is disappointed."

Sakura shifted the basket on her hips and set down the cream jar. "You sound like you've had your share of disappointment, my dear."

"Oh, plenty. I'm sure you understand. I was reared in social circles dominated by men. We were expected to be quiet wives. Endlessly enduring." In one bold stroke, Riku painted a stripe of rouge down the inside of her wrist. Her long nails were shaped and painted like coffins, but for a moment, Sakura thought she saw a rim of dirt underneath. “You know, a man’s greatest weakness is his facade of strength, but a woman’s greatest strength—” Riku leaned in, and Sakura caught a whiff of her perfume “— is her facade of weakness."

A deluge of roses and musk, but underneath, the unmistakable stench of sulfur. 

Sakura smiled tightly, regretting her _henge._

* * *

He found her alone at the western end of the bazaar, where the shoulder-to-shoulder caravans of the center plaza gave way to animal pens and supply crates. Her disguise was masterful— a stout matron in her sixties, with skin like crumpled parchment and grey hair secured in a twist at the base of her neck. On her right hip perched a woven basket.

When she saw him, she dropped it to the ground. "Thank goodness," she said. Her reedy voice was one of a stranger, but the look of relief that washed over her lined features was one he knew well. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine."

She picked up the basket, with a hint of embarrassment. "Let's go over there." She gestured to one of the twenty-feet tall hummocks that marked the periphery of the bazaar.

The outer slope of the mossy knoll faced the west. The gold rays of sunset offered little respite from the wind, sweeping down from the peaks of the mountains on the horizon, unbroken by the flat terrain of the valley. Sasuke positioned himself between her and the gust. She glanced at him, and he had a hard time remembering how to bend his knees to sit. 

They were quiet.

"Higa was betrayed," he said finally. They traded what they'd learned, most concerning the part about Scorpion and the ventilation shaft, and the tension dispelled.

"I guess he's not our problem. Let's figure out what we can before Shikamaru's team takes over, and leave Scorpion to Kumo," she said. She handed him a bun from the basket, still warm.

"I do owe the Raikage a hand."

Sakura's look was withering. She peeled back the rice paper on her own and took a bite. Her green eyes lit with delight, and she let out a noise obscenely close to a moan. "What is it?"

"The henge," he said quickly.

"Oh, I forgot."

"Don't—"

She released the transformation. Her back straightened, her legs lengthened, and the folds at her neck evened to graceful contours. _Great._ Sasuke diverted his eyes to the field, chewing mechanically. The shadows of the dwarf trees lengthened as the Sun sank below the horizon.

"Sorry, you don't like sweets, right?"

"I like it." He wasn't tasting anything.

"It's so pretty out here," she murmured. The dark sky glowed a peculiar shade of green. _Same as her eyes?_ "Look how bright the stars are."

No, her eyes were deeper, emerald specked with gold, glittering with wonder. "Yeah."

"Can I tell you a secret?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Back when you were gone, on nights I couldn't sleep, I'd sneak into your yard and sit on your porch to feel a little closer to you. I promised myself that as long as we were under the same sky, watching the same stars, I'd find you again." A shy smile lit up her face. _And here you are,_ it seemed to say. 

The idea of her breaking into his family home didn't bother him as much as it should have. "Why?"

"You know why."

_If I still have a place in your heart—_

"You would have said anything." The words came out like an accusation.

"I would have." Sakura drew her knees to her chin. "It didn't work."

Her feelings were the last thing on his mind then. "There was nothing you could have done." 

"Did you consider it? Even a little?"

His hands fisted at his sides. He'd used that genjutsu, hadn't he? If he was capable of inflicting that pain on her, without reason or remorse, then he couldn't have cared. "No."

"I see." 

When did he get so used to lying?

Sakura took a deep breath, as if summoning courage. "Last night, I was inconsiderate. I was only thinking about me, and not about you. What I said—" she faltered "— please forget about it. You set your own boundaries, and I crossed them, and I'm sorry." Guilt washed over her features.

What the hell was she talking about? She made it sound as though she'd coerced him.

 _What did you expect?_ — whispered a despondent corner of his mind. _When have you ever passed on an opportunity to break her heart_?

"After everything that's happened, I understand if things feel too weird between us. I don't want you to feel cornered or like you don't have a choice. So I was thinking... how do you feel about seeing Tsunade-sama instead of me for your eyes?" she asked.

His stomach plunged. "What?"

"She lives pretty close to the village. I can write a medical exemption form for you to travel," she said. "She's the best of the best."

Blood thundered in his ears. "She retired."

"She won't mind one patient."

"She'll say no."

"Have some faith, Sasuke-kun. I'm her favorite student; she'll do it for me. What do you think? "

He'd never considered Tsunade; she'd vanished into seclusion after retirement. Sakura was offering him exactly what he'd wanted. If Tsunade said yes, he wouldn't have to search for a medic-nin. If Tsunade said yes, he'd have no reason to see her.

"Okay.”

"Alright, it's settled. I'll ask her when we get back to the village." She stood, blowing on her hands. Her breath frosted in the frigid air onto her blanched fingertips. "I should head back to Kuzu. I have to do those autopsies before Higa gets back."

He held out his gloves, as nausea rolled heavy through his stomach. "Be careful."

"I'll be alright." Sakura smiled. "You need those more than I do."

Sasuke looked down. His hands were trembling.

"See you in a bit," she said. She took off before he could respond.

Sasuke squeezed the gloves in numb fingers of his left hand, the one she'd given him. This was what he wanted— to disappear and never speak with her again, so she’d forget him and have peace. He stared at the space she'd occupied, the frosted ground marked with the imprints of her boots, toes facing away from him, and acid clawed up the back of his throat—

— _too soon not yet he wasn't ready fuck fuck—_

Sasuke bolted after her. He caught up in seconds, sliding in front of her so quickly she collided into his chest.

" _Wha_ — what's wrong?" she asked from the ground.

"I don't want to see her," he said.

"Who? Tsunade-sama?” Sakura stood, brushing the dirt off the heels of her palms. "Did you chase me to tell me that? You could've waited until we got back to the complex."

"You were right," he said. "Last night. What you said."

"Oh." Sakura’s eyes widened and her arm crossed over her body. "Why did you want to stop then?"

"It'd make things complicated."

"Like what?”

"Leaving."

She faltered. “Do you mean leaving me?" Guilt flashed over her face. "Is it something I said?"

"It's not." He said. Was he going to do this? The wind fell silent, as though to goad him on, but his voice was a croak. "I hurt you."

"On the roof? I was overreacting,” she said.

“Before the war,” he said, a little impatient. _Why wasn’t she getting it?_ “At the bridge with Karin.” And all the others, again and again. Too many to count. "I hurt you."

They stood there, breaths mixing. He’d held the words in for so long that the moment felt surreal. Snow dusted the tundra like a sheet of fine lace and melted into the skin of her nose. She looked as startled as she did in the alcove. "This is why you've been distant," she said, realization dawning.

"I wanted you to leave me alone," he said. "But you never did. Neither of you."

"Of course not," Sakura said. "We love you. We're friends, remember?"

His gut twisted.

Sakura took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. "The war was hard, and I'm not going to lie. There were times I lost faith in you. But it's over. You are not that person anymore. You haven't been that person in a long time. There are things I did that I regret too; we all make mistakes. Dwelling on the past keeps us from living in the present," Sakura said. "I know you're sorry, Sasuke-kun." 

"You're not afraid of me.” 

“Not at all.” She slid off her gloves, and he didn't realize how cold his hands were until she threaded her fingers through his. "I feel so safe when I'm with you, like nothing in the world could hurt me."

 _She forgave him._ A burden of five years lifted off his chest. “I didn’t want you to cry,” he said.

Her expression flickered and she smiled at him, eyes shining. The image seared itself into his soul.

Why did he feel so awful?

"I'm going to hug you," she warned before pulling him into a tight embrace. Her head came but halfway up his chest. How could someone so strong be so small? Her arms locked around his waist, and he was engulfed by the lush scent of her hair. A desperate greed ripped through him— _more more he wanted this to keep._

No, this was enough. He'd get over the rest.

As if she sensed his turmoil, her arms looped around his neck, and she rose to her toes. The world narrowed to the comely weight of her pliant form against his, and the ground softened beneath his feet. Green eyes gleamed with mischief."I was right," she murmured, an inch from his lips. "Say it."

"I don't want to be your friend," he said immediately.

Her brows rose.

Panic brewed. There was no going back to pretending after this. "What?" he asked. 

"N-nothing. I just wanted you to admit I was right." Color suffused her cheeks. "But that's good too," she said quickly.

“You really are annoying," he muttered.

He ducked his head to hers, and her fingers wound in his hair. The snowy landscape fell away as he hitched her off her feet by the tuck of her waist, dizzy with the music of her laugh, and the kiss she pressed to his lips was sweeter than sunshine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone has a safe and fun Halloweekend 👻
> 
> Inspo:  
> [ _The Myth of Male Power_](https://www.amazon.com/Myth-Male-Power-Warren-Farrell/dp/0425181448)


	11. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura convinces Sasuke to stay.

* * *

_Interlude_

* * *

The only spare trench coat Ino owned was much too large on Sakura. Its stiff, taupe polyester ballooned around her arms, even with the sleeves cuffed. The uniform of Konoha Torture and Interrogation Force was designed with menace in mind, although Sakura rather doubted she was convincing anyone to divulge their secrets. One more day. One more day of the squick and small horrors of this rotation, and she could kiss the linoleum floors of the Intelligence Division goodbye for good.

The only piece of furniture in the room was a chair, forged in obstinate, angular lines. A man slumped in its restraints. What remained of him, at least. "Can't you leave the hands?" Sakura said.

"They contain the most nerve endings. It's quick." For all his charms, Morino Ibiki could never be accused of anything less than efficiency. "Don't tell me you're feeling sorry for him."

At this point, she was well into plain revulsion. In the six months that had transpired since their victory, the Allied villages enjoyed a tenuous peace… with economic turmoil. The Kage redirected defense funds toward infrastructure reconstruction. For thousands of active duty shinobi, that meant a career change into construction or business; for others, defection. The Chief of ANBU reported a record number of incidents last month.

"People do all sorts of things out of desperation."

"He conspired to start a coup for profit, at the expense of thousands of lives. If we gave criminals like him a second chance, what would prevent others from doing the same?"

"Morals," Sakura snapped. "Common decency."

Ibiki laughed, a sound that was like a coarse bark. "You're soft. Don't let the world change that."

A tiny slug appeared in a summoning ring on the ground. "Good evening. I hope I am not interrupting! Shizune-san requests your presence in trauma bay one."

_Freedom_. Sakura nodded at Ibiki as she tore out the building and down the familiar road. The medical center campus was a mess of wood, steel, and twenty-foot dumpsters. Pain's attack had had levied the pink limestone hospital of her childhood. In its place stood a new building— an unfinished thing of solemn wood.

She burst through the double doors of the hospital and found chaos. Each of the six bays in the trauma unit were occupied, and still more patients waited on spillover pallets. Unlike Morino Ibiki, Konoha's emergency department could not be accused of efficiency even on its slowest of days. Medic-nin on hands and knees scrawled hasty resuscitation formulas on the ground while staff scrambled with armloads of linens. In the wake of Tsunade's retirement two weeks ago, they were a hive without a queen.

" _Sakura_!" Shizune's hair was slicked back with sweat. "Sorry for calling you in. We're drowning. There was some sort of explosion at the Iwa site. Kiba just brought them all in. It looks like eight new admits, six for surgery—"

"What do you need? I'm here to help." Sakura pulled her hair back.

Shizune looked at Sakura like a starving man would a steak. "Can you take over for me in OR three? It's a neck trauma case. Hakui is in there, but I told her to wait for you to remove the senbon. There's some poison to extract."

Shizune wasn't pulling her punches. "Can do," Sakura said. "Who's the patient?"

"It's Uchiha Sasuke. His team brought him in."

The air left her lungs. Shizune _really_ wasn't pulling her punches.

Whatever expression she wore made Shizune pause. "Is that okay?"

_Stay calm._ "That's fine. Where do you want Hakui?"

"Oh you _absolute_ angel." Shizune pulled Sakura into a hug. "Have her see beds one and two. Send Katsuya if you have any issues!"

Her feet moved automatically, she was staring down the door of the new operating room. Her pulse bounded in her ears as she entered. Sasuke was stripped to the waist, motionless on the raised table. Under the glare of the overhead lights, his pale skin appeared bloodless. Hakui was braced over the head of the table.

"Hang on," Sakura said, snapping on gloves. His face was thinner than she remembered. Under a fan of lashes, his angular cheekbones cut into the strong lines of his jaw. Her heart still skipped a beat at the sight of him, to her consternation. _Calm._

His pulses were intact, but the flesh there of his neck crackled at her touch— air. She probed: the tip of the senbon spared his carotid, but grazed a tracheal ring. Sakura braced an elbow against the table and gripped the senbon under Hakui's fingers. "Thanks, you can let go now."

Hakui's sigh of relief was audible as she straightened. "Call if you need anything."

"I will. Well done."

The door to the operating room swung closed and then they were alone. With care, she withdrew the senbon. The last time she'd seen Sasuke was in October. His trial had been a contentious affair. Kakashi and Naruto both testified in his favor for acquittal, but several of the louder Kage demanded that he be executed for treason. She didn't know the details of his final sentence, only that he had narrowly avoided imprisonment. Sakura deposited the senbon on the tray and opened a specimen jar.

The poison was, thankfully, contained to his neck. Drops at a time, Sakura extracted the fluid and collected it in the jar. The skin of his torso was covered in scars, a few white and faded, but most pink and taut. An angry ring of raised tissue looked as though someone held a burning torch against his abdomen, extending past the waistband of his pants. Were these all wounds from the war? Why hadn't he seen a medic-nin? Her eyes traveled from his chest to his left arm, where it ended in a blind stump above the elbow.

It had taken Tsunade a month of research and experimentation to create bioprosthetic arms from Hashirama Senju's cells. Naruto's replantation procedure took fifteen hours, but the results were spectacular. The allograft grew with his chakra until it was indistinguishable from its predecessor. For whatever reason, Sasuke had turned his down. Sakura siphoned the last drops of poison from his neck and turned—

Half-lidded eyes met hers.

Sakura startled, banging her arm against the procedure stand. The metal tray clanged to the floor, and the specimen jar shattered against the tile. " _Damn it_ — Hello? Can you hear me?"

His eyes turned to the ceiling.

"You're in the hospital," Sakura said. "You were poisoned. Blink if you understand." He grimaced and did, but his gaze remained unfocused. What was going on? Had she missed a vessel? Sakura waved a hand before his face, inches from his eyes. He did not blink. And she realized—

He was blind.

A tap sounded at the door. A painted cat mask peered through the glass panel. What did ANBU want with her at this hour? Sakura pushed through the heavy door to the hallway.

"I'm apologize for interrupting you, Haruno-sensei."

The ANBU wore her black hair in a severe ponytail. Sakura did not recognize her voice. "I was wrapping up."

"I have an urgent message for you from the council. It's a request regarding your patient, Uchiha Sasuke."

Sakura removed her gloves and twisted them in her fingers.

"He was formally reinstated in November for out-of-village missions. Based on his exceptional performance, the council and our Chief intend to recruit him in ANBU upcoming cycle."

Sakura's brows shot up. ANBU were covert operatives who specialized in infiltration and assassination. They concealed their identity, even while admitted to the hospital. The nature of their job required the highest level of security clearance, with access to all the senior leaders in the village… people Sasuke attempted to assassinate but months ago.

"The council would like your assistance with two duties."

"I'm listening."

"As you can imagine, his character is still in question. The Hokage was asked to nominate three jonin for this task, and you were one of them. The duty is as follows: if you observe any behavior or language from Uchiha Sasuke that you feel suggest instability or may jeopardize the safety of the village, report to us immediately."

The insinuation that they would eliminate the threat was clear. Sakura frowned. "What's the other request? The urgent one?"

The woman fell silent before speaking. "Although we do not deem him to be a current security risk, Uzumaki-san is not always available to resolve a threat. If he were to turn, we are under no illusions. It will be a bloodbath. It was agreed that the safest option was to have some sort of insurance, particularly before he enlisted in ANBU."

She produced a thick scroll from her pack. It was inscribed with kanji for a medical seal; Sakura could recognize her _shishou's_ handwriting anywhere. "Where did you get this?" she demanded.

"Tsunade-sama left it to us when she retired. At our request, she modified the Senju arm with a seal. It will block the most destructive of his doujutsu."

Sakura swallowed. "And you want me to attach it now. While he's unconscious."

Her silence was confirmation.

"No. Absolutely not," Sakura said. "Have you asked him about any of this? He didn't want the arm."

"At his trial, he agreed to any stipulations of reinstatement."

But why wait until now to approach her? When he couldn't refuse? Sakura's eyes narrowed. "How exactly did that senbon get into his neck?"

"If you're suggesting that we orchestrated the incident, please rest assured," she said mildly. "There were multiple chunin witnesses. It was a stray senbon."

Sakura looked at the weighty scroll, recalling the first time Tsunade taught her to seal living tissue. "I'm not eager to operate on a technicality."

"If it is any consolation, the seal will be removed when he completes probation."

"When will that be?"

"Ten years," she said. "With a chance for retrial."

Sakura tried to imagine ten years without _Strength of a Hundred_. Or _Creation Rebirth._

"We did not take this matter lightly, Haruno-sensei. The council, the Chief of ANBU and the Hokage deliberated and came to this decision together. I was informed that he was in your first genin squad. I hope that on this issue of village security, you can remain impartial. You saw what he tried to do."

How could she forget? For weeks after Kaguya's defeat, she'd woken up drenched in sweat, the chirping of a thousand birds deafening in her ears. She would never admit it to anyone, but she still took gave the Uchiha complex a wide berth on her way home from work. Sakura accepted the scroll.

"Thank you," the ANBU said. "In the future, I'd advise against being alone with him. He's impulsive."

Sakura pulled on a new pair of gloves and re-entered the operating room.

* * *

Sasuke woke to the unmistakable stench of antiseptic. The same smell had permeated the rooms and corridors of Orochimaru's underground hideouts, seeping into his clothes like mildew. Suigetsu once described it as Kabuto's personal cologne.

He hadn't spoken with any of the former members of Taka since losing to Naruto at the Valley of the End. His wounds had been so grievous that he did not expect to survive. The six months that had since passed were a blur of aimless mission and unfamiliar faces. Despite Naruto's insistence on including him in social outings, he could hear the trepidation in his former classmates' voices when they exchanged polite pleasantries. The terrified whispers of strangers that followed him in public.

A growing part of him yearned for the life he before the war. No one to answer to. No rules to abide by. For all the musty caves and underground bunkers of those years, he was free. Konoha ceased to feel like the village of his childhood. And with each passing day, the ties that tethered him to the village seemed to fray.

Dawn illuminated a faint blur of what might have been a clock on the wall before him. He did not try to read the hands. Footsteps rounded the corner, growing louder until they stopped outside his door. A man was speaking.

"—seventeen-year-old male who is post-op day one for neck—"

"Thank you, Iyashi-kun, I know who he is," a woman said, with a touch of apology. Sakura. "I can just see him alone. Shizune is taking out stitches in room twelve. Why don't you see if she needs help?"

Hushed whispers, to which Sakura insisted, "I will be fine. This shouldn't take long." A knock sounded, and the door clicked open.

"Good morning," she said. Her voice was modulated, lower than he remembered. Metal screeched on metal as she drew the curtain closed. She stood two arms-lengths away, a smudge of white against a sea of green. "How are you feeling?"

He swallowed against the burning in his throat. "Fine."

"Can I check the wound?"

He nodded. The bed sank on his right and her breath grazed skin of his cheek. Her fingertips on his neck were cold through her latex gloves and despite her level voice, they were trembling. "Any pain?"

"No."

She tugged the taped dressing off his neck. "Do you remember what happened?"

A group of rogue nin ambushed their team en route from the Land of Sound. His senses were sharp enough that his vision had yet to impact his performance in battle, but this month-long trip had left him running on fumes. A single senbon had escaped his awareness. "No."

"Look at my nose. How many fingers am I holding up?" 

"Three. Two. I don't know."

What began as a subtle blurring of the periphery of his vision progressed to cover his entire visual field. Soon, he knew he would open his eyes to complete darkness. He had experienced blindness once before, endured it for a single week before demanding Obito to perform the transplant. The Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan was supposed to grant perfect vision, but the effect did not last. Was this an effect of Kaguya's chakra? Orochimaru's experimentation? He didn't know, and there was no one left alive to tell him.

"Your vision… it's bad," she said gently. "Tsunade said you weren't interested in a prosthetic. Have you given it any more thought since?"

"Not really."

"Why not?" 

"I just _haven't_ ," he groused. Her inquisition grated on his nerve. She sounded so goddamn _placid_ , so _reasonable_. "So _an_ —" The word _annoying_ nearly slipped through his lips, as it had so often before. She spoke as though it were obvious that he should want himself fixed. Perhaps it was. And yet, the simple tasks of going to the hospital or asking for assistance were inexplicably insurmountable, and that annoyed him.

"The council asked me to spy on you."

Her quiet divulgence hung in the air between them. "I don't know what the last six months were like for you, but I can imagine they were difficult. Things will only get harder from here to regain their trust. You'll need every advantage you can get," she said. "I think you should reconsider the Senju arm." Her voice wobbled at the end.

"Would you be the one to do it?"

"Yes," she said. "I'll have assistants if you're worried about my experience."

For some reason, inconveniencing her out of all the other staff of the hospital seemed particularly egregious. Self-indulgent. "That's okay."

She signed. "At least let me do something about your vision. I can't let you go in this condition."

_Sasuke-kun._

The name settled into his chest. No one called him that anymore. He was _Sasuke_ to Naruto, _Uchiha_ to his colleagues, and _psychotic_ to seemingly everyone else in the village. _Sasuke-kun_ was the naive boy who escorted old men and scavenged for statues, who still believed he could right the wrongs of the world if he were only a little stronger. He nodded.

He felt her weight edge closer on the mattress. Sakura did not smell like iodine, but like soap and something floral.

"Close your eyes." Fingertips touched at his temples and passed chakra between them like the ebbs and flows of the tide. Her control was exquisite. It felt like bathing with an open wound— a smarting sting that dulled until the pain faded altogether. They held the position for so long, Sasuke was lulled to sleep. 

"How's that?"

He opened his eyes, and the breath hitched in his throat. Sakura's thick hair was piled atop her head, the flyaways catching the brash light of dawn like a crown of light. Lit from the side, her jade green eyes were flecked through with burnished gold, boring into his own. Her full lips were parted, the cream skin of her throat disappearing into the collar of her white coat, and for one long moment he hated to admit that she was so— so— _enthralling_ that it was all he could do to stare. He paid no attention to the hands on the clock of the wall or the leaves in the window, now sharp in focus. 

Sakura stood and swayed, catching herself on the bannister of the bed. A brief grimace of shame crossed her face, and she rushed through her words. "Shizune will be by this afternoon. You can plan on going home after. Take care of yourself."

She had her hand on the door. Her tone sounded like farewell, and it spurred a small, senseless panic. Before he could stop himself he called her name.

"I'll think about it— the arm."

* * *

Sakura lived surprisingly close to him. Her apartment was the corner unit of a third-floor walk-up that shared a courtyard with two adjacent buildings. An overgrown wisteria occupied most of her side of the yard, its knobbly branches jutting over the balcony rails, nearly grazing her door.

She opened the door immediately at his knock.

"Hey, sorry it's so late. Got tied up in a case." Light spilled from her hallway onto the balcony, and the smell of cooking wafted out. Her hair was pulled into a bun, and she wore a pink apron over leggings and house slippers. "Did you catch the festival at all?"

He stepped inside, conscious of how grimy his travel pack and sword were against her welcome mat. "No, I just finished with Kakashi." He unlaced his boots and followed her into her living room. Sakura's home looked as he'd imagined it to be, with a touch of disorganization. Her walls were painted a cheerful yellow. An overstuffed bookshelf occupied one wall of the room, and a tufted, emerald futon the other. Dozens of houseplants crowded her window.

"He's the _Rokudaime_ now. Our sensei is moving up in the world," she snickered.

He read the spines of her solemn, leather-bound tomes: _The Linshu Toxicology Reference, Yin Transformation: A History, Suiwen Atlas of Surgical Anatomy;_ nestled with dozens of smaller scrolls on toxins and antidotes.

She noticed his perusal. "It's a bit of a passion project. I was stationed in Suna for a few months on an externship, and they had the most _incredible_ greenhouse and library."

It had been years since he'd entered the Uchiha library, but he remembered there was a section on ancient herbs. Perhaps they would be of interest to her. A bright spot of color caught his eye in the furthest corner of the bottom shelf. A stack of worn paperbacks, hastily shoved between the largest of her reference books, with titles in curling fonts. 

"Passion, hm?" He pulled one— _Sweet Ruin—_ from the shelf and examined the bare male torso on the cover.

" _Kitchen_ —" she commanded, snatching it out of his hands. "To the kitchen."

She deposited him into a chair at her round dining table. A pot of _nabe_ simmered on the stove, and his stomach growled. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a home-cooked meal. A jonin flak jacket was carelessly thrown over the other chair. Sakura moved it to the table to sit. It was a men's jacket.

"This looks really good," she said, turning his left arm over. Immediately after replantation, the prosthetic had been tawny and gaunt. With each passing day, it seemed to adapt to his chakra. Now, it meshed so perfectly with his skin that he could not tell it from his original hand, save for the seal at the wrist. "Does it still hurt?"

"No." Sensation returned in steps: first pain, then temperature, and finally touch. "I can feel your hand now."

"Squeeze my fingers." His fist swallowed her slender index digits. She directed him through a litany of movements, while she tapped and prodded. Her hair smelled like jasmine shampoo, and he wished he'd showered before coming.

"You're nearly at one hundred percent. I think we'll be there in a month," she said. "How's your vision?"

"It's fine." Better than fine. Since the morning at the hospital, his vision was crystal clear, nearly to the level of after the transplant. Even Kabuto had not been able to figure out the way to reverse s _haringan_ damage. "How did you learn to do that?"

"The same way you learned all of your techniques," she said, laughing. "Lots of practice. It's based on yin transformation. I could teach you if you want."

"That's alright." He never had any remote affinity for medical jutsu, and he didn't need to trouble her with more work.

"It should be easy with your s _haringan_. Unless you just want an excuse to keep seeing me."

"I'm not interested," he said. Her smile flickered. She had been teasing. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Sakura said. "Be honest." 

The flak jacket taunted his gracelessness. "Do you often see patients here? From your apartment?"

"Sometimes."

"You shouldn't give your address out to people," he growled. "It's not safe—"

"I can handle myself." Her eyes dared him to object. They fell into silence while she completed her exam, until a distant explosion rattled her house.

"Oh! The fireworks," she said. "Can we watch?"

They stepped onto her balcony, into the music of the warm summer night. Each detonation was a drum-line over a chorus of cicadas. Sakura leaned against the railing, craning her neck around the leaves. Red and green flares blossomed high in the sky before clattering to the ground. At an apartment across the courtyard, a young couple stood with their toddler, watching the display. They waved at Sakura, and she waved back, beaming. Sasuke leaned on the railing too, feeling out of place in his uniform and bracers. The smile never faded from her lips, and her hair was a thousand colors under the lights. It wasn't until she moved to open her door that he realized the show was over.

In her entryway, Sasuke sat before the pair of boots that had collected dust in his closet for half a year. The laces were still wet spider-silk between the fingers of his left hand, but tying was possible. Sakura waited while he fumbled.

"Sakura—" he said, at the same time that she began to ask him something.

"Go ahead," she said quickly.

He swallowed. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome. Come see me before February," she said. "And don't forget this!"

She held the hilt of _Kusanagi_ out. He snatched it from her. The katana seemed a particularly vile thing for Sakura to touch. It was suddenly imperative that he kept that domain of his life, of blood and gristle, strictly separate from her. They bid goodbye.

His feet moved automatically out of her courtyard, down narrow sidewalks to the main gates of the Uchiha compound, past his mother's vegetable gardens gone barren, through the double doors painted with the _uchiwa_ insignia, down the dark hallways to the empty guest room he'd claimed, and he fell onto the bed, dirty clothes and all.

His head spun.

When he closed his eyes, he did not see ghosts. Instead, her hair was aglow in the summer night, her lips mouthed _would you like to stay,_ and the flak jacket was defiant at her dining table. He laid there for a long time, unable to shake the sudden tightness of his ribs.

* * *

_Interlude_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it seemed wrong to finish their love story before writing the beginning ;)


	12. Promise Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura runs into trouble; Sakura solves a mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C/W: Injury in first scene.

Sakura was weightless.

Affection requited was molten gold in her blood as her boots flew over the frost-crusted breath crystalized in the air yet she felt none of the cold. Only the tingle in her lips. The ache in her cheeks. Gods, she must have looked like a madwoman, grinning from ear to ear as she sprinted to the complex.

 _At last_.

Sasuke's quiet admission still felt like a dream. But all those suspicions, those moments of doubt with him… they _hadn't_ been all in her head.

Despite it nearing midnight, the landscape was illuminated by deep emerald ribbons of light, dancing at the horizon behind the ravine ahead. As unpredictable as it was, she was grateful to this strange, beautiful land. If not for this mission, how long would he have hidden his feelings?

Motion at the periphery of her vision gave her pause. A pair of birds surveyed the land from their burrow. Milky plumage extended down their densely feathered legs, and brows of crimson feathers capped their heads. The larger one cooed, louder and louder, until the sound reverberate through the field like the rumble of thunder.

Sakura ground to a halt. That wasn't a bird cry.

"You were supposed to wait at home."

Distracted, she had not noticed the two posts of the rope bridge. Or the man that waited in between.

His voice set her hair on end. It was unnerving low with a rattling quality that reminded her of a dying beast. His cloak draped a frame at was twice as broad as the average man and easily seven feet in height. Sinuous tendrils of dark hair hung to his elbows, framing an steel mask that covered his face entirely.

 _Scorpion_.

This was bad. How had he found her? She'd cheated with a bit of chakra for speed, but it had been a minuscule amount.

 _S-rank_.

Leagues more dangerous than the pair of Kumo-nin she'd taken on two nights ago, and she was all alone. How long would it take Sasuke or Sai to find her body out here?

The mad drumming in her ears made it hard to think. Aizu was seven miles away, but retreat meant sacrificing her lead on Higa. The estate was even further ahead, but the only path was across that rope bridge. Sakura dropped her pack to the ground.

_Fight._

"So eager," he tutted. "I am not your enemy."

Yet even as he spoke, he was unclasping the cross-collar of his cloak. Underneath, he wore heavy armor, uncharacteristic of shinobi— a breastplate strapped over a chainmail undercoat and gauntlets of lobstered steel. His shoulders were obscenely muscled, carved from rock. A length of chain as thick as her arm uncoiled from his waist to pile on the ground, ending in a wicked, curved blade. He held the other end in his hand— a chain whip.

 _No metal._ Hastily Sakura untied the weapons pouch at her waist and removed her belt. "What do you want?"

"To make you an offer."

Was this another clone? The landscape offered scant visual cover, but his real body could be miles away.

"I don't know why the two of you are here," he said. "I don't care. Interfere with my plans again, and I will kill you both."

"You want to kill Higa," Sakura guessed. "You're after the Aizu mine."

"That man will bring death to Aizu, as he did to Matsuo."

Realization dawned. "That mountain village in Lightning… it was your hometown."

"Ash and cinder now," he said. "Before we discovered that cursed vein of gem, we were coal miners. His developers led in mercenaries; Matsuo became a battleground. A pair of them fought next to the ventilation shaft and lit the fumes. The spark ended up underground, and the whole town sunk into the burning coal. My father died that day."

But Sasuke said _Scorpion_ was the one who had engineered that accident…

"I'm sorry for your loss," Sakura said. "But I can't let you kill him."

"Foolish."

He leapt toward her, drawing his weapon in a high arch overhead. _Crack!_ A sharp whistle of wind was her only warning before it snapped at her. Sakura sprang back, arms crossed over her chest, and her heel caught on a rock. The edge of blade skimmed her bracer, and the force of just that small contact was enough to send her skidding along the ground.

"The missing scouts all those years," Sakura coughed. "It wasn't the terrain, it was you."

"The few sacrificed to spare the many."

She needed an opening. With Sasori of the Red Sand, she had used his tail whip as leverage. Although forty pounds of wooden puppet was much easier to haul in than near-four hundred of flesh and steel…

They carried on for hours, his whip flicking toward the air like a serpent's tongue. The thin layer of frozen snow on the ground was crosshatched with ruddy dirt from her evasion. She was all too aware that he was driving her around, pushing her back until—

Her heel drew to the edge of the ravine, a gaping black maw at her back.

"I meant to pick you off, but you are not as weak as you appear," Scorpion growled, armor dented by her fists. He clasped his hands in Dragon and chakra flared, as noxious as miasma. The blade tip of the whip levitated off the ground as if held by an invisible string. _Jiton._

The sun broke over the horizon, hot on her back. She was running out of time. Sakura gritted her teeth.

_This was going to hurt._

She charged headlong, the skin of her right arm tightening as she directed her remaining chakra to her fist.

"Stupid little girl—"

The tell-tale whistle of the blade lifted her hair. Scorpion braced in a squat. His metal mask filled her vision. Sakura jabbed with her left arm. Like a striking python, the whip twisted around her elbow and then tugged with immeasurable force.

_Pop!_

Pain exploded from her left shoulder at the same time that Sakura slammed her right fist into his temple. The edge of his mask curled like origami. The hideous _crunch_ under her knuckles told her she'd shattered bone. Her teeth clattered at the force of impact.

His body collapsed to the ground, neck flexed at an abnormal angle. Black blood bubbled from his right ear. The whip loosed from her arm to coil on the ground.

When the adrenaline wore off, Sakura took stock of the damage. Scrapes and cuts, but her left shoulder was the worst off. By the twisting of her arm, definitely dislocated. Sakura sank to her knees and gripped her left forearm at eye level.

_One, two, three._

She yanked and gasped when the bones slid into place. _Don't faint don't faint don't faint._ Cold sweat beaded on her neck and her stomach rolled with nausea. When the spots of black in her vision cleared, Sakura crawled to the body.

His black hair was matted to dreadlocks. Sakura flipped him to his back, and her dinner came boiling back up. There were no words for the fetid stench that emanated from his body. Quickly forsaking her plans to unmask the man, Sakura sped through the sealing technique and clicked the scroll shut.

Breath burned in her lungs, and sweat plastered the hair to her neck. Sakura couldn't remember the last time she had to fight like this, to the brink of collapse. Ranged combat had never her forte.

Yet she shouldered her pack, she was exultant.

She had taken down a _S-rank_ criminal. _Alone_.

No Chiyo or puppet strings or teammates. _This_ was what she'd been missing on those endless days in the hospital. This was what she'd trained for, what made her blood sing. As she crossed the rope bridge, her cheeks ached with a different sort of smile.

* * *

By the time the complex came into sight, Sakura felt as though she had waded through a lake of cold molasses. She'd never welcomed a sight as the wall of cypress trees against the dusty red landscape. Sai's map in hand, Sakura crept past the alarms in the garden to the wall. Her left shoulder protested, but she hauled herself into the bedroom window.

Inside, a woman combed her pink hair at the vanity.

"Alright," Sakura gasped. "Give it here." Her shadow clone dispersed, and chakra returned to her veins like a drink of cold water. Eleven-thirty on the clock— it would be a sloppy rotator cuff repair.

Sakura's legs were lead as she showered and ransacked her closet for something that required the least effort to assemble. She settled on a fitted half-sleeve bodice in sea-green silk and a gauzy, full skirt that flowed from her waist. The mascara wand quivered too violently in her fingers, but she fared better with the pen.

With Scorpion out of the way, there remained the final part of the mission— uncovering what Higa had offered the other villages. Despite going through his office with a fine-tooth comb, she had found neither hide nor hair of a ledger. If only she'd had the sense to go through his private quarters that first night.

Just three days remained of Higa's original two week proposal. With luck and her teammates' help, Sakura could complete the mission in one night. Especially with Sasuke's _sharingan._

_And if there wasn't a ledger…_

Well, she'd worry about that when the time came. For now she just needed to focus on Higa.

At the side table, there was a tray of breakfast with a rich, umber beverage that smelled of hazelnuts. Sakura drained the mug. It was bitter, but it settled her rolling stomach. She was halfway through a buttery slab of flatbread when the attendant knocked at her door.

They walked down the eastern corridor, away from the ruined ballroom, and Sakura caught a whiff of night jasmine before they even stepped outside. Five pairs of female eyes turned on her under the pavilion. The women were arranged on marble benches circling the fountain, as resplendent as a painting.

_Oops._

Sakura sat by the only girl she recognized, enshrined in the gossamer folds of her silver gown. She was the one who'd checked Higa's breathing the first night.

"Nanami, right?" The girl's long eyelashes were tipped with needlepoint crystals, and her hair was braided with sprigs of baby's breath. It must have taken hours. "Are you feeling ill?"

Sakura wiped a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth. "Just peachy."

Higa strode in to the pavilion alone. The women stood, so Sakura did too. To her surprise, he walked straight toward her. Too late, she realized she'd forgotten the recorder.

"How was your trip?"

"The mountain air was refreshing. Did you miss me?" He took in her bare face, finger-combed hair, and exposed midriff.

"I could hardly sleep."

"I'm sure." He offered her an arm. "Let's go for a walk."

He steered her through rear gardens, between carpets of star geraniums, blush peonies and Shimori roses the size of her fist. The air seemed warmer, more humid here than outside the perimeter.

"It's so beautiful." Sakura did not feign her marvel. "How do you grow these in this climate?"

"You'll have to ask the Sakura shinobi."

A chill ran down her spine. "What?"

He looked blankly at her. "From the Land of Flowers. I commissioned them to construct this bio-dome after my father's garden. A streak of nostalgia, I suppose."

They ambled into a greenhouse filled with a single plant: rows of broad, ovate leaves and whorls of lavender blossoms spiked with seeds. "Did your father grow these as well?"

"No, my own addition."

"What would he think of your habit?"

"He didn't care, and my mother was never home long enough to notice." Higa plucked a _kokova_ seed from the pod, rolling it between his fingers. The black-violet juices seeped into his fingertips. "They were preoccupied with shinobi affairs."

"In Iwa?" Sakura crouched to caress the flowers. An ink rabbit hopped from behind a jasmine-covered trellis, and Sakura shoved her wadded up note in its mouth.

"Kumo. Have you ever heard of ' _H'?_ That was her moniker during the Third War."

"Afraid that was before I was born."

Higa flung the seed away and wiped his fingers on his silk robe. "I forget my vintage. How old are you, kitten?"

"It's impolite to ask a lady her age," Sakura said. "But twenty-one, since I like you."

"Still a girl."

"Oh, I disagree."

"Of course you do." He met her gaze with amusement. "Let's head in. Accompany an old man while he works."

* * *

Higa read his paperwork in silence, deflecting her attempts at conversation until the sun went down, and Sakura was resigned to spending the evening with him. Work became dinner, and dinner became drinks.

"Why did you leave Kumo?"

He filled her ceramic bowl with another ladle of _amazake_ , a fermented delicacy that tasted of sweet sake and hints of passionfruit. "I was running away."

"From political unrest?"

Higa, for what it was worth, seemed intent on drinking her under the table. "From heartbreak."

Sakura took measured sips, yet her cheeks heated with undeniable warmth. "I don't believe you."

"Even us licentious curs were innocent boys once," he said, smirking. "I was fifteen at a shinobi event in Suna. She was nineteen, a practiced flirt, and hauntingly lovely. If I had any hope of passing that exam, she was the nail in the coffin."

"How long were you together?"

"Two years. She was my first everything, the ruler of my heart." He took a long draught from his bowl. "The night I asked her to marry me, she told me she was betrothed to another— a wealthy merchant, arranged by her parents. If it was any consolation, she told me, she did not love him. I was a penniless genin and I clung to that reassurance long after I left Kumo."

His laugh was dry. "And now that I am richer than the daimyo himself, I consort exclusively with women I pay for pleasure and company. Make of that what you will."

"It sounds like you already have," she said mildly. The Suna Chunin Exams at fifteen would put him at twenty-nine or thirty now. Which meant the Matsuo incident occurred years after he had already left Kumo. "What about Riku?"

He waved a hand. "A business partner introduced us two months ago. It didn't go anywhere."

Sakura startled. Only two months?

"And you? Who was your first love?"

"I was a girl."

"Indulge me."

No need to lie, she supposed. "We were schoolmates. He was the popular crush, the top of the class. I was so infatuated, I grew my hair out for his attention," she said. "I confessed, but he didn't feel the same. Eventually, he moved out of town."

"How did you get over him?"

Sakura fought a snort.

If only he knew how hard she had tried to forget Uchiha Sasuke. 

Two years ago, she tried in earnest. She met Hyuuga Kou, a jonin colleague, at Hinata's nineteenth birthday party, where they’d swapped stories over Naruto and his cousin’s respective accounts of their fumbling but endearing courtship. Kou was polite and attractive, and it felt good to bask in unfettered male attention. Sasuke hadn’t spared her a second look in three years, so when Kou asked her to dinner, she said yes.

Eleven years of pining, she thought, was long enough. 

Apparently, it wasn’t. Through their date, Sakura was plagued with _what-ifs_. What if she didn’t have to share her childhood memories of Naruto, and he just knew? What if the eyes that watched her from across the table were not frost-colored but obsidian? The vexing truth was that Sasuke was the standard which she'd— unconsciously, _unwillingly_ — held every man to. And who could compare to _him_?

She still remembered the first time he walked into her apartment. How he sucked the air out of the room, too large and dominating in her cozy space. The sight of him in her kitchen chair made her heart beat faster than any date. Sleep evaded her that night.

"Do you ever get over your first love?"

"I intend to drink and fuck like a madman until I do," Higa said. "Don't let my sorry tale sully your opinion of me."

"You endeavor to greatness," Sakura said dryly.

Higa brought a heel to rest on his seat. The pot of _amazuke_ had run dry and the candles burned to the wicks in their holders. "This wasn't what I had in mind when I asked you to drink with me."

As she watched Higa's grey eyes glow in the firelight, a slow revelation dawned. "Sweet wine and bewitching company?"

"Careful, Nanami. I could accuse you of flirting."

"I would never be so unprofessional."

"A pity," he said. "Perhaps I can convince you otherwise."

He laid a ebony box on the table. Inside was… well Sakura wasn't sure _what_ it was. Delicate, metallic butterfly wings lit on a mass of branches wrought of pure gold, tipped with night pearls, rubies, and white jade. The molten candlelight caught on the fringe of interlocked threads of fine copper chain.

At her hesitation, he prompted, "For your hair."

Sakura lifted it from the box and saw the pins underneath. She fixed it over her ear, with more than a bit of difficulty. The drink was much stronger than it tasted. Finally, it stayed. "How do I look?" she asked, lowering her eyelashes.

His smile faded.

"Like an empress."

The final piece of a puzzle that she'd been assembling all of this mission clicked into place. Sakura rose to her feet, ignoring the sudden lurch of the room.

She read his tells as easily as those of a sparring partner. How his fingers tensed imperceptibly at the fine satin of the tablecloth. How his throat tightened in a swallow at her approach. How his tongue wetted his lips and his pulse jumped. It was all so clear, the unspoken language of men, and Sakura wondered how it had taken her this long to comprehend.

The gauzy layers of her skirt pooled around his knees, and she tipped his chin up toward her. A shudder ran down his spine when she pressed a kiss to his lips. "Thank you, Masao."

When she stood back, he was sullen. "Gods, you must be making a fortune."

"What do you mean?"

He laughed, bitterly. "To think I believed your rouse of innocence. How many men before me have you fooled?"

"You are my first client."

"A sweet lie, and yet…" He turned to her, hand fisted on his knee. "Spend the night with me. I have never groveled."

"I have no reason to lie," Sakura said. "And you have no reason to grovel." His expression darkened at her words with unmistakable hunger. She pressed a finger to his lips. "But not tonight."

Not before she met with her team.

Fiery ire flashed through his eyes. For a moment, she thought he would seize her, but it passed. "How cruel," he conceded. "My cruel Nanami."

Sakura did not wait to be dismissed, but when she swept out of the hall, he did not stop her.

* * *

The ornament had taken root in her hair. Sakura winced as she tugged it out, sacrificing the few strands tangled with the elaborate gold wiring. The treasury department would have a field day with this thing.

Her shoulder screamed bloody murder when she tried to unclasp the tie of her bodice. Sakura gave up and sank into the vanity chair, eyelids like two anchors.

"What's wrong with your arm?"

Sasuke spoke so near her ear that she jumped. When had he come in? In the mirror, she saw him cross his arms, thick muscles bulging against the fabric. The memory of how effortlessly he'd lifted her that first night in Aizu made her blood heat.

"Got into a fight." She shifted in her seat to better admire the delicious view. "Didn't you get my message?"

Wordlessly, he handed her the crumpled note.

Sakura squinted. Okay, _admittedly_ , not her best work. But she was short on time, and what _else_ could that nightmarish kanji be? " _Scorpion_."

His scowled. " _What_? On the way here?"

She managed to string together some words to convey the important bits of the encounter. "I didn't have time to examine the body."

"He was waiting for you at the bridge," Sasuke said, darkly. "He targeted _you_."

"It's fine. I got him." Sakura was only a little disappointed that he hadn't commended her on victory. "Did Riku come back with you two?"

"No, Higa said she headed home first."

Had Riku left to tip Scorpion off? She was the one loose end that remained of this mess.

_Ugh._

Sakura stood, and the fatigue of the day hit her like a train. All the blood rushed from her head and spots of black pebbled her vision. Sasuke's arm shot out to steady her, while she twisted, attempting the bodice once more.

He frowned. "Are you drunk?"

"Do I seem drunk?"

"Completely."

Sakura sighed and raised her hair. "Help, please."

Instantly, his breath was at her neck. He unclasped her top with deft fingers and dragged the zipper a quarter of the way down. In the mirror, the sight of his broad shoulders behind hers made her breath hitch in her throat.

He heard. Any remnants of her inhibition burned away in the carnality of his gaze. "We can talk later," he said. "Go to bed."

Sakura did not know what possessed her to turn. "Alone?" she asked.

"Yeah _."_ His voice was thick. "You're going to forget all this."

She dragged her nails up the tantalizing ridges of his stomach, lifting the hem of his shirt, biting back a smile at his shudder. "Help me remember," she whispered.

Crimson splintered through the black of his irises, and it was intoxicating, watching him come undone.

 _This._ _Him._

Part of her had always known the truth— she had never gotten over him. The first night that Kou stayed over was vivid in her memory. Not for passion, but for how crestfallen she'd felt, lying awake in the sheets while he drifted off.

Was that _it_?

It was over so quickly, and it was... unsatisfying. Sheer frustration goaded her into closing her eyes, and as guilty as she felt, pining for a man who wasn't even in the village while in bed with another, when her hand disappeared into her underwear, it was _his_ voice whispering demands in her ear, _his_ thick fingers that stroked her core until she was wet with need—

" _Sakura_ ," he snarled.

 _Oops_.

Had she said that out loud?

Sasuke's rough hands found the zipper on the back of her bodice and yanked it off. Cold air puckered the skin of her hips when her skirt followed suit. "You want a gentleman—"

 _Of you?_ Sakura wanted to laugh, but the world tipped on its axis as she was swept up, weightless once more. He settled her into the pillows and sank into the cradle of her hips.

Sasuke raked his gaze over her, eyes hooded.

Sakura imagined herself, hair splayed across the sheets and pinned under his powerful frame in a lace bra and underwear. Would he think they were small? She crossed her arms over her chest.

He pushed them aside, impatient to see, and then dipped his head to press a reverent kiss to her jaw. His palm was shockingly rough and large on her breast, but not unpleasantly so. As he trailed his lips down to the valley between them, Sakura's eyes slid closed, bones melting.

Something hot and moist settled over her nipple, each languid flick sending liquid heat to pool between her legs. Blindly, she threaded her fingers through his hair. His touches were hypnotic, soothing the sour ache in her muscles.

Sakura conceded defeat.

Her arms fell limp as she sank into the decadent darkness… Then his mouth lifted, leaving her skin cold. "No, keep going," she mumbled.

He exhaled. "You're exhausted."

The heavy weight of the duvet over her body extinguished her protests. As he rose to leave, she had the sense to grapple at his shirt, tugging him back into bed. He paused, and then she was cocooned, snug against his chest, engulfed in the earthy aroma of sandalwood and storm.

"Tomorrow, then. Promise me."

His words were strained. "Whenever you want."

A slow hand stroked her hair, as his heart played a sweet lullaby in her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my toxic writer trait is editing chapters after I post them


	13. Luminal Tear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team makes a shocking discovery. Sasuke receives important news. Sakura goes on a last date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C/W: Autopsy between “Sakura turned on” and “entirely other reasons” Nothing super squick but it’s ~3 paragraphs and safe to skip.

When Sakura’s thigh grazed the miserable ache between his legs a third time, Sasuke resigned himself to fate.

He held himself in iron-clad check before. Kept his eyes to himself and her at arms-length as much as she’d allow. Now she slept, face inches away, and the forbidden details — lashes, a few shades darker than her hair; the dusting of freckles on her upturned nose; her lip dotted with bite marks— held him paralyzed. 

_She wanted him._

Another oblivious shift of her hips sent a fresh wave of need rattling down his spine, and all he could think about was how her nipple tasted as it pebbled between his lips. The tension in her shoulders had long since melted away, and he was definitely starting to sweat. He should go. As though she could sense his torment, Sakura’s ankle hooked over his leg, mashing their hips together—

Sasuke leapt out of bed.

_Asleep, his ass._

He shoved the duvet back, and all his lust was extinguished by the sight in the mirror. A livid bruise wider than his hand blackened the back of her shoulder, and welts crossed her elbows.

The wind and rustling leaves fell silent to a thunderous pound in his ears. Sakura’s back shimmered, as though submerged in oil, and focus returned so razor-sharp he could trace the blood oozing under her skin, pooling between the torn fibers of her muscles.

_—kill him kill him kill him he dared to touch her rip him apart—_

The wood cracked in his hand.

With a start, Sasuke released the bedpost.

_Again._

He closed his burning eyes, willing the aimless bloodlust to cool.

How ironic that he’d once mocked Danzo for feeble mastery of his stolen _sharingan_ , when his own tenuous control reduced him to wrecking furniture.

_It was fine for years,_ whispered a piece of his mind. _Fine until her._

If she had left her injuries in that state, she must have been drained to the bone. He leaned onto the vanity table, and in the mirror, his face looked more like his father’s than he cared to admit.

Y _ou are weak because you lack discipline, Sasuke. Itachi could do this when he was four._

Where Sasuke was impulsive, Itachi approached life like a game of Shogi— each word, each decision calculated four steps in advance. He inherited their mother’s temper, unflappable in the most dire of situations, and it earned him the title of ANBU captain at eight.

If Itachi were captain of this mission…

No. His brother would have never requested this in the first place. He would have sent Sai and his ink birds to Aizu and Sakura to prepare for Higa in Kuzu. Nor would he have missed her injuries because he was busy tearing her clothes off.

His feet led him to the head of the bed. Sakura had flipped to her stomach, jutting a bare leg across the duvet. Her hair was a nest, and the pillow smothered her deep breathing, even as a metronome.

He closed his eyes.

_In… out…_

The stinging subsided. The world shimmered, and he was standing in an ordinary bedroom once more.

He hoisted himself into the window frame, and a blast of frigid air plastered his shirt to his skin. Sasuke resolved to ruthlessness and discipline. No one would hurt her again.

Sakura shivered in the draft. The duvet was still half off… But she would be warm once he closed the window. Once he left.

He should go.

* * *

The market street teemed with wagons and ox-drawn carts. Although her vibrant hair was tucked under a cap, Sasuke spotted her easily in the crowd.

“It’s our lucky day. He’s busy until six,” she chirped. Her brows rose. “Someone’s looking _very_ grumpy this morning.”

Sasuke nestled into his scarf. Evidently, his idea of _ruthlessness_ and _discipline_ last night was to pace the room a few times, slide the godforsaken window shut, and crawl back into bed with her.

He woke to his arm clamped around her waist, and his erection digging into her spine. Dawdled ten minutes staring at their entwined legs and another ten musing on how she fit under his chin perfectly. By the time he peeled himself off, it was dawn.

“I was nervous my first time too. Almost fainted actually,” she guessed. “It helps to have a stool nearby. And you can hold my hand if you get scared.”

“I’ll keep that in mind."

She had the audacity to stifle a yawn. “Hard to believe we’ll be home in two days. I’ll miss some of this place.”

He glanced around. It was a regular street— bakeries, produce stalls, and butcher-shops. The snow-capped mountains were a nice sight, he supposed. The sights of his previous missions blended into one another, and the faces of the men he’d killed on them were long faded.

“What do you have next?” he asked.

“Back to the hospital for me.”

Relief spread in his chest.

“Actually, there is a project I’ve been mulling over. You know that empty suite in the new hospital? No one’s claimed it yet. I think it’d be a great space for a child psychiatry clinic.”

He didn’t know anything about children or psychiatry. “What does Shizune think?”

“I haven’t asked her. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

His chest puffed. “Do it.”

“The issue is funding. We don’t have anyone qualified on staff. We’ll have to hire someone full-time from Suna, and that’s expensive. The council sponsors a jonin project each December, but they like training and defense proposals. And the winners are always big names, really talented and well-respected.”

“Sounds like you.”

Color rose in her cheeks. She turned a shy smile to him, and he nearly shouldered a lamppost. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Sasuke-kun.”

The street narrowed to a cobblestone path, lined with bars. The few pedestrians paid them no attention. Sasuke caught sight of their reflection in a glass shopfront: an ordinary young couple in matching scarves. He stood a little closer.

They passed an advertisement for amazake, Sakura grimaced. “That stuff is _dangerous_. Way stronger than it tastes.”

He’d heard plenty about her tolerance from Naruto. “What’d you have? A whole glass?”

“I had three, thank you very much.”

“Cheap date.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He caught the _yes_ before it flew off his tongue. “Do you remember anything?”

“Last night? Uh… bits and pieces. Why do you ask? Did I say something weird?” Her face was a picture of innocence. 

Of course she’d forgotten her mumbled words that were now seared so deeply into the forefront of his memory, they hadn’t stopped intruding all morning. She short-circuited part of his brain. One minute, he was ordering her to bed. The next, he was _in_ bed over her. 

Despite his dogged efforts to avoid details of her personal life before this mission, inter-jonin gossip traveled quickly. Sasuke never involved himself. It wasn’t as though she were beholden to him. She could date who she liked, if it made her happy. Sure, her words made him feel a _little_ better about his “unsportsmanlike” tackle at last year’s summer sports festival that “nearly broke Hyuuga’s jaw”, but he blamed that on the man’s shit reflexes.

“Why do you look _incredibly_ smug?”

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

He couldn’t help himself. “I’ll tell you if you promise to show me.”

“Show you? Show you what?” At his silence, she stared. “I’m not going to make you a blind promise.”

He shrugged. “Alright.”

_“Show you what?”_

They made their way to the cafe between two salons. His expression in the glass was appallingly blithe as he pulled open the door.

“I don’t like this side of you,” Sakura hissed, walking under his arm.

The only other patrons were an old couple at the far end of the bar. Soft jazz crackled from a stereo radio on the counter. The shopkeeper was pot-bellied with a bulbous nose and violaceous cheeks, but he held the bread knife with the unspoken grace of forty years of shinobi service.

“Back again?”

“As promised,” Sakura said.

The veteran’s eyes darted between the two of them, and his smile faded to disapproval.

A nagging thought occurred. What would Sakura’s parents think of him? S-rank ex-felons were not who people envision for their daughters. Not ones who were out of the village eleven months out of the year. He wouldn’t have time to see her, much less be her _boyfriend_.

The word sounded so ridiculous, Sasuke stepped away.

Sakura seized his hand, and the shopkeeper’s brows flew into his hairline. “Do you have any private seating downstairs?” she asked sweetly.

He cleared his throat. “Table or booth?”

“Booth. As soundproof as possible, please. It’s our anniversary.” She leaned her head against his arm.

With an air of scandal, the shopkeeper unlocked a small door behind the counter. The long flight of stairs descended into darkness, and Sasuke glided down each one like air.

When they passed, the veteran grumbled something like _more trouble than he’s worth_.

Sakura was unfazed. “Trouble is half the fun.”

* * *

Sakura heaved the cadaver onto the steel work table with a clang that set Sasuke’s teeth on edge. The ends of its hair slithered off.

“Not bad,” Sai commended.

The sizable restaurant kitchen had been re-outfitted Konoha’s only outpost in this part of Stone. The unplugged refrigerators contained bedrolls, the walk-in pantry medical supplies, and the wire racks supply crates.

At a worktable, Sakura’s clone laid out equipment: drapes, scissors, basins and a headlamp. All that was visible of her was her eyes.

“If you like what you’re wearing, you should put those on.” She pointed at a crate of gowning kits on the ground. The gown scratched his throat, and the elbow-length gloves were so compressive his fingers went numb.

Sakura stood on her toes and daubed peppermint oil on his mask. “Trust me, you’ll need this.”

They set to work doffing Scorpion’s armor. When he pulled off the breastplate, a smell redolent of the worst-kept of Orochimaru’s laboratories wafted through his nose. Only the peppermint kept him from gagging.

“He was committed,” Sai said, setting a codpiece to the floor.

The last to go was his metal mask, the fabric ties matted into his hair with clotted blood. Sasuke hacked at them with shears until the mask clattered to the ground, unveiling the Scorpion’s face.

It was an ordinary face, albiet swollen. Sasuke ripped through his ragged tunic— the final layer. If only he could kill him twice.

Under the yellow hiss of the fluorescent lights, the naked body was pallid and scarred. Near a hundred pounds of metal laid at their feet.

Sakura turned on her headlamp, scalpel in hand. Without preamble, she opened the belly. The smell intensified, and light perspiration beaded his neck. Sasuke trained his eyes on her face, off her hands.

Sakura used to faint easily. During the Chunin Exams, the mere mention of Aburame Shino was enough to make her bristle. Now, she collected her spoils with unflinching focus. Her movements were sharp and deliberate, and there was a savage grace to each pass of her rib shears.

As though she sensed his attention, her green eyes lifted to his. Sasuke shifted on his feet, warm for entirely different reasons.

“This doesn’t make any _sense_ ,” her clone groused from the back table. “I sealed him right after.” She muttered nonsense, her wet glove staining the chicken-scratch on her notepad as she flipped through.

“Fibrinous _what_?” Sai asked.

Sakura dispersed her clone and stepped off the stool. “What does it smell like in here?”

Sasuke didn’t need a breath to answer. “Decay.”

She nodded slowly, as though she’d hoped for another answer. “His internal organs are necrotic. At least two weeks of decomposition. This man died before we came to Stone.”

Silence rang as her words sunk in.

“The others,” Sasuke said.

The three of them unsealed the dozen assailants from Higa’s gala that Sai had collected. But they were all ordinary, frozen into death and smelling of nothing but smoke and sweat.

“You’re certain this is the man you fought?” Sai asked sharply.

“I mean, he smells like it,” she said. “But that’s _impossible_. He was moving the whip without touching it. With _jiton_.” Sakura recounted her fight again, in far greater detail than last night.

The longer she spoke, the greater the pit of cold fury in his stomach grew. A stray thought cut through the haze. “Did you see anyone else near the rope bridge?”

“Just some birds,” she said. “I wasn’t really looking. Why? You think someone was moving it for him?”

He nodded. “The real Scorpion.”

Corpse puppeteering and tissue preservation were two of Orochimaru’s specific research interests. Used in combination, they allowed the wielder to access an endless supply of undead weapons. To create immortal vessels, he’d amassed the largest known collection of texts on reanimation of the dead.

After banishing Orochimaru, the council declared the techniques to be unnatural interests in violation of the sanctity of life. The penalty in Konoha for studying a single of those forbidden scroll was life imprisonment.

Before reviving the Sannin from the grave, Sasuke had read every one. How would he lie away this piece of knowledge? “Scorpion’s Bingo Book entry is ten years old, but there’s no photo. No physical description.” Sasuke said. “He’s swapping bodies.”

His team turned skeptical gazes to him.

“Like he’s possessing them?” Sakura asked. Her gaze darted to where the Cursed Seal once was on his neck.

“No. Not if they’re decayed,” Sasuke said. “What did Gaara use _jiton_ for?”

“Not controlling corpses, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. “He used it to contain a shrapnel explosive. He shot all the scrap metal...” she trailed off, eyes on the pile of discarded armor on the ground. “Okay, but he could _talk_. Vocal cords aren’t metal.”

“What did he sound like?” Sai asked. “Could it have been a microphone? An implant?”

“Now that you mention it, he sounded terrible.” Sakura whirled to the corpse, as though to check.

Her brows rose. “The other possibility here, and I mean, _far-fetched_ , because the quantity is _tiny_ compared to _that_ —” she gestured at the armor “—is that he can move the corpses themselves. It’s on the order of grams, but there are trace metals in all human tissue. It would take incredible chakra control.”

“Why would he cover the corpse in armor? It’s extra weight if there’s nothing alive to protect,” Sai asked.

Sasuke agreed. The rate of decomposition was proportional to the user’s skill. Orochimaru’s vessels lasted three years. By the smell, Scorpion was leagues in skill below the Sannin.

“He didn’t really try to _dodge_ me during the fight. Almost like he was used to relying on the armor—” Sakura groaned, reality setting in.

“I really thought I killed him. I’ve _fought_ chakra puppets before too. Why hadn’t I just examined him on the field? So careless—”

“You were injured and depleted,” Sasuke said. “Don’t blame yourself.” _Blame me._

Sai nodded. “He would have tailed you if you ran.”

“If he’s using _jiton_ and not a reanimation technique, then they’re just half-rotten corpses.” Sasuke said. “We’ll be prepared if he attacks again.”

Privately, anticipation mounted. If Scorpion attacked, Sasuke would not let him flee. His blood thrummed with a dark glee at the prospect of breaking the man’s mind before burning him alive—

_Discipline._

“Nara’s team gets in tomorrow. We’ll brief them in-person. Until then, Higa is safest from Scorpion in his compound,” he said.

“Easier said than done.” Sakura tore her gown off, balled it up, and shoved it in the trash. To his relief, she looked a bit perkier. “Let’s run through the plan for tonight.”

Her words doused him like a bucket of cold water.

_Tonight. Higa._

He’d shoved her inevitable task to the back of his mind the entire mission. By the time they finished reviewing, the dread in his stomach had tightened into a knot.

“He likes his sake after dinner. I think we’ll be in his chambers around ten,” Sakura said. “Wait for my signal so I can unlock the window for you two.”

“Good luck,” Sai said.

Her eyes darted to his. 

_Don’t,_ he wanted to say. _Fuck the mission._ But Sasuke’s tongue tangled with his breath, and the doors swung shut behind her.

“Uchiha- _taichou_ , can I have a word?”

Sasuke stalked to the bodies. “Don’t call me that.”

“It’s your title.” Sai’s expression betrayed nothing of Sasuke’s blunt refusal to use honorifics when their roles were reversed. “I came to report last night. You weren’t in your room.”

“I wasn’t.”

Sasuke flipped the ventilator fans on and drew fire into his lungs. The bodies ignited like hot coals, white-blue flames lapping against the steel walls of the incinerator. He scowled. _Amaterasu_ was instant.

Sai raised his voice, unfazed. “A captain needs to be reliable to subordinates.”

_You lack discipline._

“Don’t lecture me. What’s your report?”

“A message for you from the council: next week marks five years completed of your probation. Your peer evaluations have been positive, and your ANBU performance unrivaled in recent history. In light of your service, you are eligible for early termination. Your retrial date will be set upon our return. Congratulations.”

His testy delivery was at odds with the message.

“As your most recent teammates, Sakura and I will be asked to testify,” Sai said. “Her testimony will reflect her favor for you. I’m afraid I will be obligated to objectivity if I’m questioned.”

_Ah._

“Be as honest as you need, _senpai_.” Sasuke said. “You won’t hurt my feelings.”

Sai’s lips compressed. “See you tonight.”

He climbed up the stairs and departed first.

Alone in the empty kitchen, Sasuke rubbed his wrist. Five years felt like a lifetime ago that he’d held the ten chakra beasts in the sky, untethered in the fabric of space and time. Even the bone-crushing pain of Susanoo was a distant memory.

How would it feel to have it all back?

* * *

The Devil’s Door was a natural arch of red sandstone, bridging the hundred feet or so of air between two adjacent rock ledges. Thousands of tiny oil lamps nestled into the nooks and crannies, illuminating the rock face in a ring of fire. Children danced through the smoke, brandishing paper lanterns and long skewers of glazed mountain hawthorne.

“I thought you disliked public appearances,” Sakura grumbled. There was so much silk to her skirt that she could not gather it all up in her hands. Tiny, golden bells sewn into the embroidery disclosed her every step. “This feels _very_ public.”

“I can’t miss my own event,” Higa said, in far more combat-appropriate trousers. “And spite the Lady of Light?”

“Pious words from a pious man.”

Despite her best efforts, Higa could not be swayed from this outing. _As long as he doesn’t make a speech._

“My contributions to the western Temple are unmatched.”

Sakura sidestepped an intricate lotus on the ground, arranged from grains of dyed rice. “You’re from Lightning,” she pointed out.

“The tax deduction is considerable,” he admitted.

Sakura would sooner believe he was a devoted temple-goer than paying dutiful fiefs to the daimyo, but she held her tongue.

They walked under the arch. The evening was warm for November, and half of western Stone was in attendance, families dressed in their finest red and yellow robes. Too many families.

Too many casualties.

Her earrings swung like counterweights each time her head whipped toward a sudden movement— a flickering shadow, a careening drunk. And the stone bridge overhead… If Sakura had a warlord to assassinate, that was the first place she would go. A perfect vantage point over the crowd.

“It won’t crumble,” Higa offered. “It’s held for thousands of years.”

“You don’t know my luck today.”

The air smelled of smoke and earth, without a whiff of rot. Sakura paused, eyes on the bustling crowd. If Scorpion could move _dead_ tissue, what was keeping him from moving _live_ tissue as well? A hand lit on her back, and she jumped. 

“I must commend you on your performance tonight,” Higa said.

“What do you mean?”

“Not a single probing question. You’re convincingly skittish.”

She recovered. “How’s work?”

“If it’s reservations about tonight, let me assure you,” he murmured, “I’m not so indecent to force a woman in bed against her will. If you’ve had a change of heart—”

“I haven’t,” she said. He discussed it so _plainly_.

They approached the edge of a crowd, gathered around a wide platform. On top stood a sculpture— a dancing goddess constructed out of fresh blossoms and glittering gemstones with no clear scaffold. The firelight flickered, and Sakura saw that the goddess was encased in a prism of ice, shimmering with gold dust.

The stunning piece divested her of her nerves. “This must have cost a fortune.”

There were no railings around the platform. Bold observers reached toward the ice, coating their fingertips in glitter.

Higa’s breath skated along her neck. “I would spend a fortune to keep you.”

Sakura turned. In the soft glow, Higa’s eyes shown amber, and the fine needlework of his coat brought out the flaxen tones of his hair.

Irritation sparked. If Higa insisted on baldly parading through a public crowd after inspiring a blood vendetta from a homicidal necromancer, he could have at least done her the courtesy of being born conventionally hideous. As it was, his uncommon complexion and princely attire drew flitting gazes and furtive whispers from the crowd like flies to a carcass.

_He’s an arms dealer!_ Sakura wanted to shout at them.

Then, the man caught her eye.

Amidst a sea of motion in the crowd, he stood stock still at the other end of the platform. Watching them. He was alone, dressed in burgundy robes and a wide scarf.

_Oh no._

Sakura whirled around and pointed to a cart at furthest edge of the square. “Buy that for me,” she demanded.

Higa’s gaze followed her direction to a string of paper lanterns. He cast her a dry look. “Are you mocking me?”

Sakura dragged him along, nearly jogging in her fervor to put distance between them and the sculpture. She threw a look over her shoulder— the man was gone.

At the cart, the peddler lit the pumpkin-shaped lantern and handed it to her. It was light as air, plain parchment wrapped on wire tines with a candle inside.

Sakura barely felt it in her hands as she stalked toward the carriage. Never had she thought she would long for Higa’s estate, protected with seals and alarms—

There he was. Standing by the horses. He’d tailed them.

Sakura’s hand shot towards her hair, grasping for senbon…

He inclined his head in a small bow.

_Oh._

Of course. Higa’s bodyguard.

“Aren’t you going to make a wish?” Higa, oblivious, pointed at the sky. What she’d taken at first glance for bright stars were hundreds of floating lanterns, quite fantastical, but to take part, they would need to cross the square again, past two rows of vendors and about a hundred warm bodies.

“I have none except to return home,” she said tightly, leading him by the hand to the carriage.

“Eager thing,” he murmured.

They rode back in silence, the air between them fraught with tension. She was so distracted by Scorpion that she’d forgotten to be nervous for tonight with the warlord. The outpost supply closet contained everything she needed. If all went wrong, she still had the paralytic pills.

Through the small window, Sakura watched the lanterns drift along the horizon like a twinkling river of light. Her fingers itched to tear the rice paper of the extinguished one in her lap.

_Tonight_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sasuke's POV + plot = writing challenge. Definitely understand why people write PWPs now 😂
> 
> Couple of notes: 
> 
> 1\. I started writing Duplicity before Sasuke gained a Rinnegan and lost an arm. For the sake of story continuity, I invite everyone to ~suspend disbelief~ and imagine that it turns off like the other sharingan forms. Also that Sakura has been dutifully applying concealer to her Byakugo seal  
> 2\. Kou will deviate from his canon character. I needed a male minor character, and I like dogs too much to pick on Kiba 😅  
> 3\. Going to try be a real author and stick to an upload schedule of first and third weekend of every month. :)
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely comments and support. Cheers to the holidays and vaccines and the end of 2020!


	14. Duplicity I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team carries out the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was all supposed to be a single chapter, but it came out 7k+ words, so I decided to split and update early. It’s a lil spicy/more explicit than anything I’ve ever written, so kinda nervous for what y’all will think 😅 Thank you to the lovely [FictionalQuacker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionalQuacker/pseuds/FictionalQuacker) for beta-reading.
> 
>   
> C/W: Sexual content, recreational drug use, and mild dub-con themes (tagging to be super safe)

Sakura had to give credit where credit was due— Sasuke planted the seed two weeks ago in her head.

_"Will it loosen his tongue?"_

She tossed the lantern on the table and retrieved the glass jar from under the bathroom sink. She'd obtained it, along with a liter of clear solvent, from a crate of compounding supplies at the outpost. The fistful of black _kokova_ pods, she pilfered from Higa's garden. When she left for the festival, the jar was clear. Now, the pods stained the liquid within the jar a pale lavender.

Infuse, emulsify, extract and administer. In four short steps, she could answer all their questions-- on crystal gem, Scorpion, and Matsuo. All she had to do was give the intoxicant. Sakura steeled her resolve. What would Ino do? Morino Ibiki?

Okay, _he_ wasn't the ethical standard to hold herself to.

Sakura inked the creation seal on lengths of toilet paper, arranged around the jar on the marble counter. She formed hand signs and infused the jar with her chakra. The purple solution darkened to ink and faded to clear. A faint aroma of cape jasmine confirmed emulsion.

_"Saigenzai?" Sai asked. "No, I haven't. What is it?"_

_Recognition sparked in Sasuke's eyes._

_"Liquid genjutsu. It's powerful and untestable," Sakura said. "The_ _specific effect depends on the plant used in synthesis. Kokova has disinhibitive and hallucinogenic properties, and when used in_ saigenzai _, it creates an aphrodisiac."_

_"How would that help?"_

_"The euphoria is intense. He'll remember his mood and physical sensations, but not conversations or faces."_

_Sai's brows rose. "Why haven't I heard of it?"_

_"It sets in too slowly to be useful in a fight," Sakura said. "We see it in clinic used mostly by former shinobi for stress relief. People don't talk about their vices."_

_Her gaze flitted to Sasuke._

Little moments like that unsettled her, unwelcome reminders of the parts of his past she didn't know about.

Sakura collected the _saigenzai_ in a glass vial the size of her little finger. With each clear drop she extracted, the glass jar darkened to its original shade of purple. And the final step of crafting any poison…

She placed the last drop on her tongue; it was flavorless. She capped the vial and waited.

She drummed her fingers on the counter.

Not a twinge.

_Come on…_ Sakura examined the jar. The pods looked thoroughly steeped, and the plants in Higa's greenhouse were vigorous and healthy. Was the solvent expired? Well-stocked outposts were unused outposts, and that crate _had_ been shoved way back on the highest shelf…

Sasuke pulled it down after, she suspected, watching her struggle for far longer than necessary. His broad shoulders had tensed against his shirt, and his smirk as he set the crate in her arms told her he'd caught her looking. The room warmed. It didn't help that she knew _exactly_ what laid underneath his clothes. And how those shoulders felt pinning her to the bed. If she hadn't passed out last night, how far would they have gone?

The empty ache between her legs built to a throb. Her nipples tightened into painful peaks, and suddenly, Sakura was standing in an oven. She needed to be touched, right now. Needed stimulation, she would do _anything_ , would die if this went on…

Sakura cupped her breasts and the sensation of her cool hands on her bare skin made her gasp.

Wait, bare? Where were her clothes?

The room temperature plunged. The euphoria dissipated like a caress of velvet on her skin, and her breath returned. Sakura collected her bra from the sink and stepped into the cold shower, triumphant.

One step left.

_Administer_.

* * *

Of course, it was one thing to _plan_ to poison Higa Masao in her head, and another thing entirely when the door to his chambers snapped shut, and she was standing before him in a dressing gown with a mic jabbing her breast.

His suite had been rearranged for the evening, lamps and candelabra ablaze, and the console cleared of empty bottles. The air smelled woodsy and expensive. The four-poster bed, piled in sham pillows, throws and covers, was a veritable piece of architecture. By the window, two cream chaise lounges faced a low table bearing assorted bottles and glasses.

Higa stood with carefully styled hair and a fresh shave.

_Oh no._

"Forgive me for starting without you," he said.

She took a seat opposite of him. He opened a new bottle and filled her glass with a trembling stream of amber. Sakura tasted it, with a slow sense of sinking. "You remembered."

He leaned on his elbows, smelling of oak and bergamot. "Aimee liked white wine too."

There was an open bottle of sake before him. No, better the ceramic cup. She had to do it soon before the voice in her head whispering that this was heartless got any louder.

"Do I remind you of her?"

"Only in taste. You two are nothing alike." Higa's jaw tensed, and he shot to his feet. He stalked to the window. "This is _insane_."

Sakura dumped the vial into his cup. "What is?"

"Do you remember when we first met?"

"In your garden, yes."

"You looked so meek in that dress, but your hair was as bright as the flowers you walked past. I assumed you'd colored it for attention. After the first night, I was certain you were a honey trap or an assassin. Why would an herbalist from the middle of nowhere have a passing interest in me? I took you to the dojo to test you."

Cold sweat beaded Sakura's neck. "I was terrified."

"I acted unforgivably." He reclaimed his seat, gaze soft. "You've given me no reason to doubt your intentions in our time together, and you're uninterested in money. You've been entirely honest with me. I see now that you aren't meek but self-possessed, and— and—"

Higa drained the sake cup in one gulp. He wiped his palms against his legs. His words came out in a rush.

"Since the morning we spoke in this room, you have not left my mind. I'm bound by your words. Helpless in your gaze. You're the finest treasure I've ever possessed, and the most enchanting woman I'll ever know. Each day that passes is an unbearable reminder that I'm closer to losing you. If I haven't made it plain, I'm crazed for you."

The wineglass hung limp in Sakura's fingers.

* * *

Sasuke tuned out the faint rustling of leaves and the drowsy hum of ventilation fans dotting the roof. At his side, Sai crouched in tactical gear, his eyes the only sliver of his face visible between the black hood and mask. The radio receiver came to life. Higa's words carried clear in the night.

_"I acted unforgivably…"_

Higa's voice was unrecognizable, raw with unbridled tenderness. The last time Sasuke heard him speak to Sakura was at the gala. They were stiff with one another. She hadn't worn her mic yesterday.

When did they get so familiar?

_"…if I haven't made it plain, I am crazed for you."_

"I underestimated her," Sai mused.

His volume, his cadence— Higa rehearsed these words. There was a rustle of fabric, and all the hair on Sasuke's arms stood on end.

_"You think I'm deranged_."

_"I’m_ _… surprised. It's been two weeks."_

_"Two weeks that I have coveted you desperately."_

A tight, burning sensation gathered in his chest. Sasuke hated the way she said his name. Had Sakura poisoned him yet? What the hell was she waiting for?

" _You're not the man I expected either, in every way. You've been ceaselessly generous, shown me beauty and splendor—"_

"She hasn't given the signal yet—"

The recorder crackled with static, cutting out the rest of Sakura's words. Higa was speaking again.

_"_ … _silks and diamonds… take_ _you wherever you want… the floating isles of the Land of Summer? The jade caverns of the Serpent's Trace? Drink honey wine every night and never work a day. Stay with me."_

The roof railing compressed in his fist with a steel groan, and Sasuke realized he was hanging off the edge. _She's considering it,_ whispered a nasty piece of his brain.

Storm clouds blackened the night.

* * *

"That's very generous of you to offer, but I have to go home to my friends and family."

Sakura tried to keep the panic from her voice. Why wasn't it working? He drank every drop. Had she underestimated his tolerance, or did he have innate immunity to genjutsu?

"Am I so deplorable you'd refuse a blank check?"

She could stack the paralytic, but there was no telling how it would interact with the _saigenzai._ "It's not about money."

"Then why? Does your heart belong to another?" He drew to his full height.

"What?"

"Who is it? Who do you love?" Higa's hands fisted as he paced the room. "Is it Kyouya? He can't take his eyes off you. Gods, you two have played me for a fool. Did you spend your days with me and sneak away to his room at night? Laugh with him at all the things I said?"

"No _,_ I—"

"He has nothing I can't buy. You're a fool to choose him over me. I could have him _killed—"_

_"_ I'm not in love with him!" The window flashed white, and an ear-splitting clap of thunder startled her to her feet. "You said you trusted me."

Higa deflated at her words. Blood rose in his cheeks, and he threw the window open. Outside, the cypress trees bowed to the fury of the squall. The air tasted of impending rain and electricity.

Wait…

Even with the draft, his skin beaded with sweat. The _saigenzai_ was working! It would only be minutes now before the euphoria set in. She needed to tie him down before he agitated.

"Come to bed."

His lips curled. "What's this? A pity fuck?" He followed her to the edge of the bed and climbed onto the covers.

The top posts were too far apart for his wingspan. He'd need to be against the headboard. She tapped the pillow. "Up here."

"If you think I'll say no, you're underestimating my character," he said, crawling to where she instructed. His movements were sluggish. Not long before she should give the signal. Hopefully, the storm outside would not interfere with the radio frequency.

She pressed him on his back and straddled his chest.

"Oh fuck," he breathed. " _Fuck."_

Sakura removed the lengths of silk bindings from her waist, under the robe. The most dangerous short-term risk of aphrodisiac _saigenzai_ was a lack of spacial awareness. Afflicted individuals could injure themselves in the throes.

"Close your eyes," she said.

He squeezed his eyes shut and licked his lips. "You could have tied me up like this every night."

Sakura raised his head and blindfolded him. Excess sensory stimuli was uncomfortable. "We had an agreement."

His hands reached for her and dropped back to the sheets. His jaw slacked.

"How do you feel?" she tested.

"Hot."

"I'm sorry." She twisted another strip of silk around his wrist, tied a slip knot, and raised it to the bedpost—

The storm condensed into a single, furious mass of chakra, and it barreled through the window. The bed was yanked out from under her, with her breath.

Sasuke's arm clasped her waist like an iron vise. She caught a brief glimpse of a new seal on his forearm, smudged with ink, before he dumped her on the ground. He turned to Higa, and a hair-thin streak of lightning crackled up his arm, fracturing the air.

"What are you doing? I wasn't done." She jumped between them.

Sasuke snatched the bindings out of her hand, and set about tying Higa to the bedpost with all the grace of attempted amputation.

" _Gentle_ , you'll break his wrist," Sakura cried. What was his problem? "Give me that."

He held the ties out of her reach, strong-arming her. Sai climbed through window. His left sleeve looked singed. His gaze flickered to Sasuke, and neither of them said a word. Both of their clothes were dry.

"You don't need restraints," Sai said blithely. "Bind him with your words."

Sakura yanked the ties from Sasuke's fist. "If we are friends at _all_ , when we get back, you _will_ purge this mission from your memory, along with everything you've heard, and we will never speak of this again."

Sai's eyes crinkled over his mask, and Sakura knew he would lord that mortifying conversation over her for years to come. She took a wide path around Sasuke, tied Higa's arms to the bedposts, and secured his feet together.

"How long do we have?" Sasuke groused.

"Less than an hour. His tolerance is higher than I expected. Are you recording?" Sakura asked.

"Yes," Sai said. "I can start in the foyer."

He left them alone in the bedroom. Sasuke watched her like a hawk, as though _she'd_ ignored his signal and tackled _him_ in the middle of securing the target.

"If you're going to stand there, could you put those eyes to use?" Sakura said. "There has to be a secret safe in here somewhere."

"They don't work like that," Sasuke said crossly.

Oh, what was the point of inter-dimensional time travel and commanding skeletal chakra titans if he couldn't see through walls?

She unclipped the mic, and his eyes zeroed in on her hand in her bra. The memory of him tugging the cup aside to kiss her breast resurfaced, and her satin dressing robe felt flimsy. Maybe there was some _saigenzai_ left in her after all. Flustered, she set the mic on the bedside table. "Go," she mumbled.

She heard him leave, and she knelt by the head of the bed. "Masao, can you hear me?"

He stirred. "Who was that man?"

"It was Jun," she said. "But he left. It's just you and me. Can you answer some questions?"

"I need you."

"I know," she said. "But first, a few questions. Can you do that? Where do you keep your documents?"

&-&-&

The ledger turned out to be three shelves of cabinets, stuffed into the false wall behind the mounted katana, which served as a lever. The documents described a decade of Higa's investments and contracts, all summarized and bound on heavy stock paper.

While Sai and Sasuke filtered through the most recent stack, duplicating the important ones, Sakura marched through her list of questions on his contracts for crystal gem with the other shinobi nations. Toward the end, Higa's concentration lapsed.

"Iwa," she repeated. "Why did you give Iwa forty? What did they offer you?"

"Forty two percent of medium grade ore production shares to refund operational costs," he said. "Ninety million over ten years… _Please_."

Sakura scrawled furiously. She'd gotten the main points— the top three contenders for crystal gem were Iwa, Suna and Konoha. Hopefully, these extra details would mean something to the council. As she wrote, her neck prickled.

"What about Matsuo?" She tried a fresh approach. "Did you ever scout a mine there?"

"Never been there."

Each time she looked over, Sasuke was scanning through binders at a lightning pace or shoving papers back into the cabinet. Did he not trust her to interrogate Higa?

"There was an accident there ten years ago. A lot of people died."

"I wasn't there ten years ago," Higa said. "Come here. Kiss me."

Sakura whirled. _Caught him._

Dark possession crawled to life in Sasuke's gaze as it dragged down the front of her robe. The sealing scroll was half-drawn in his hands. 

"If you don't touch me, I'll die."

"Just one more," she said, unable to look away. Unexpected heat pooled in her belly.

"No more questions." Higa writhed on the sheets. "I need you right now—"

Sakura stroked his chest. He climaxed.

&-&-&

Once the shelves were back in place, the katana was in its display, and the room was in order, Sai and Sasuke dispersed their clones.

"Don't forget mine," Sakura said, untying Higa's arms. "He's waking up."

Sai added her notebook to his pile. "Six."

"Twelve," Sasuke said, refusing to look at her. "Let's regroup in the morning. Strong work."

They climbed out the window, locking it behind them.

Sakura dropped onto the bed, feeling dazed. She'd trained extra hard the a month leading up to this mission, fearing she'd be out of practice or out of shape. In the end, she hadn't needed any of it.

Higa's brows drew and his eyes opened. "How long was I asleep?" His voice was thick.

"Just a few minutes."

"Did you come?" He looked under the cover and sighed. "Don't answer that." He rolled to a seated position. "I suppose now you will talk sweetly to me and divest me of my other secrets."

Sakura stiffened, rising as well. "Depends on the secret."

"I've already told you it," he said, reaching for the water on his bedside table. "What's your answer?"

"To what?"

He didn't look at her. "My offer."

The amnesia must've kicked in sooner than she realized. "I'm flattered…"

"But?"

"I don't think it's in either of our best interests."

"Tell me more about my best interests."

"You should be with someone who loves you for you, not a contract," Sakura said. "Relationships are built on honesty."

"If I followed that advice, I would live a short life," he said. "I'd prefer a painted lie to the ugly truth any day."

Sakura thought of her last conversation with Kou, the one that ended them. "The pieces of you that you're hiding are the ones that matter most." As Kou had discovered, none too quickly.

"You think your lovers have all been honest with you?" Higa asked, heated. "You've never lied to a lover? If not yet, you will. Every relationship has its secrets. Most are built on them. At least I am under no pretenses." 

Sakura bit back her retort. 

At her silence, his grey eyes flashed with something like disappointment, as though he’d anticipated another debate with her. His tone flattened. “Your payment will be outside your room before nine in the morning. I have a meeting all day. You two will be gone by the time I return."

Sakura pulled the robe around her shoulders and walked to the door. ”Goodbye, Masao."

"Wait," he said. "What's your name?"

"Tachibana Nanami." This time, she did not hesitate.

The door shut behind her. Sakura's heart rate steadied as she climbed down the stairs, through the now familiar corridors of the complex. Sasuke's room was on the far end, on the ground floor with the other guest suites. She found the door labeled Ito Kyouya and slipped inside. Immediately, she was pinned to the wall, his arm across her shoulders.

"Sorry," he said, when recognition set in. He dropped his arm but didn't step away. He'd changed into a loose cotton shirt and drawstring pants and seemed all the more tense for it. "How'd it go?"

"It went well," she said to his chest. He must have showered. His arms were clean of ink, and he smelled like the soap she liked. "He wants us gone by tomorrow night."

He made a derisive sound.

"What?" she asked.

"Surprising."

"That he wants us to leave early?"

"You heard what he said."

"Do you mean his proposal?" She peeked around his arm **.** Sasuke's room was a wreck: equipment scattered across the floor, the bedding pulled halfway off, and his sword unsheathed at the table. All of the lights were off. "Is everything alright?"

He noticed the disarray at the same time and set about organizing with brutal swiftness. "It's fine. You did a good job."

_Then why won't you look at me?_

He had been restless all night, at odds with how he'd teased her this morning. "We didn't talk about tonight beforehand, but maybe we should have," Sakura said.

He jammed _Kusanagi_ into its sheath. "Talk about what?"

"Is this about what I said to him?" He had to know she didn't mean that.

"You said what you had to," Sasuke said. "He believed you."

"I'm not sure what he believed… He asked me my name at the end, my real name," she said, biting her lip. "I don't think Masao was lying when he said he trusted me earlier though. He's hard to read."

Sasuke stiffened, forbidding chakra stirring to life under his skin. Sakura touched his elbow. At the contact, something flashed across his face, like that first night in her room.

He brushed her hand off. "Go pack."

She left.

When he pulled away like this, it was hard not to chase. She wanted to demand answers, demand to know what was wrong, because not knowing took her right back to the night at the village gates when he walked out of her life forever. It scared her when he hid his thoughts, wondering if he would up and disappear again with another piece of her heart.

She told herself she'd complied with the council's request for the safety of the village. But unconsciously, she'd complied out of selfishness. The Senju arm and the seal were a permanent tether to the village, in case he ever decided that citizenship was not worth a decade of toil.

Would he have stayed in Konoha without the seal? Or would he have been happier wandering around the world, with no warlords to protect and no defectors to hunt?

Sakura entered the hallway to her bedroom. The next time she saw it would be the last time. She locked her door...

… and jumped.

Blood red eyes bored into hers. The door met her spine solidly between her shoulder blades. Sasuke caged her between his arms, his chakra so thick and aggressive she was surprised it hadn't set off an alarm. His expression was drawn.

Her gaze fell immediately to his left forearm. Black marks branched from his wrist to his elbow. With horror, she realized she had been wrong back in Higa's bedroom: that wasn't a new seal.

That was his probation seal, cracking like an old dam against a torrent.

"You like him," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I used to avoid reading OC fics, so I really appreciate that people have been interested in Higa's subplot haha. Just a few more chapters left in the Land of Stone! Feeling a little senti because I start school again in January, and won't be able to write as much. This has been so much fun though. Thank you all for your lovely comments and support, and see y'all in 2021 ♥️
> 
> Edit: I made a [Twitter ](https://Twitter.com/_neverstray) 👀 slide into my DMs  
> Source:  
> [Saigenzai](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Saigenzai)


	15. Duplicity II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura discovers a new power. Sasuke discovers his love language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely [FictionalQuacker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionalQuacker/pseuds/FictionalQuacker) for alpha-reading. For my unfiltered drivel about this fic: [Twitter ](https://Twitter.com/_neverstray)
> 
>   
> C/W: Sexual content. If you'd prefer not to read smut, please stop at "She jolted up"

"You like him," Sasuke said.

There was no flicker of warmth or teasing in his dark, only cold fury. Adrenaline spiked in Sakura at the sight of his arm. "Your seal—"

"You treat all your targets like that?" 

"Like what?" His chest rose and fell inches from hers, and his hands fisted against the wood above her head. It was hard to speak when he was this close. "Like Higa?"

"Like Masao _,"_ he grit out. _"_ The one you used me to practice for. Didn't seem like you needed it." The marks contrasted so starkly against his pale skin that Sakura could see it in the darkness of the room, sprouting under his sleeve like tree branches. "Why did you touch him?"

"I— I felt bad."

"Were you even pretending with him anymore?" he growled. 

"Pretending what? Is this about the mic?"

"You were with him all day _—"_

"I was _tired_. I forgot because I was _tired._ Scorpion didn't let me take naps."

Sasuke's expression wavered, like he knew she had a point, but he was too worked up to relent. "What did you two talk about?"

"I don't know— politics, wine, his parents—" Higa rarely spoke without an ulterior motive, and dinner with him had felt like a Shogi match. The _amazake_ didn't help. "—If it were important, I would've told you."

"Who's Aimee?"

" _Nobody,"_ Sakura said. "She was his first lover—"

"His first lover. You talked about that." His jaw tightened. "Did you tell him about Hyuuga?"

The words struck like a physical blow.

When she didn't respond, the _tomoe_ of his irises swelled, nearly fusing. "I bet he hated that."

Sakura's lips compressed. That wasn't fair. They were acquaintances before this mission. They barely _saw_ each other. And while part of her knew that Sasuke knew about Kou— word was bound to get to him— she hadn't expected to be confronted like this. Not when he was livid.

"Higa planned tonight," he snarled. "He doesn't care what you want. He'd do anything to keep you. He's dreamed of fucking you."

A wave of forbidding chakra pulsed from his wrist. His eyes blazed in the darkness, his powerful arm inches from her face, and for the first time in years with him, she felt a thrum of fear.

"I told him about _you_ ," Sakura said.

She shouldered past him, into the room. If she riled him up any further, he'd shatter the seal. If that happened, if he set off the bomb that _she'd_ planted into his flesh... 

The matchstick splintered in her grip. Two more attempts, and she lit the oil lamp at her bedside table, flooding the pitch dark bedroom in a lively glow.

_More_.

She lit the sconces bracketing the bed, and he shuffled behind her to the vanity. She clenched the matchbox to still the tremor in her hand.

Now that there was light, she was afraid to look at him. She envisioned the seal remnants billowing across his skin like petals in the wind. Had it reached his neck? Had his transplanted arm blackened to ash? 

Sakura struck the match with too much force, and all the contents of the box scattered across the table. Before she could gather them, Sasuke reached into the lamp and lit it with snap of electricity.

The blue lacquer surface glowed lilac in firelight, and it danced across his the pale skin of his wrist, marred only by a band of kana which was—

_Intact_. Sakura's lips parted. His seal was intact.

She spun to him. Every black mark was gone. Relief spread through her chest. "Show off," she whispered.

He stepped three feet away, arms clamped at his sides. The distance felt like miles. The wooden wick crackled. "I'm sorry," he said, at the end of an exhale.

_He was here. He was safe._ "For what?"

"For speaking to you that way. You seemed so comfortable with him. I thought you might stay. I thought I'd never—" his teeth grit but he forced himself to continue "— I thought I'd never see you again. But that's my problem. I was jealous. You didn't deserve that."

_A proper apology._ Sakura nodded at his wrist. "Has that happened before?"

"Never."

"I was so scared. What were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he muttered. "That was—"

"Reckless."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. It was."

Sakura faltered. "Did you really think I'd stay? _Here?_ " But she'd told him how she felt. Didn't he trust her?

Sasuke looked like a fire that had been allowed to go out.

"It'd take a lot more than wine and dresses to keep me from going home," she said. "Besides, Ino made me promise to drink with her when she breaks up with her boyfriend next month."

The tense lines of his shoulders softened.

"And then, there's all the people I would miss if I stayed," Sakura said solemnly. "There's my parents, Naruto, Ino, Kakashi-sensei—" she rattled off names until he crossed his arms "—Pakkun, Ayane, and the nice lady that sells those mini watermelons in summer." She stroked her jaw. "Yeah, I think that's everyone."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

They stood in the same spot as that first night, when he tried to encourage her. He'd taken care of her in little ways this entire time— water after a long run, gloves when she was cold— and anticipated her needs before her.

"Do you know who I'd miss the most?" Sakura asked.

"Who?"

The answer welled up as easily as it was to step into his warmth and breathe in his comforting scent. She tapped his forehead. "You."

Sasuke went rigid as a statue. He looked as though he'd seen a ghost, haunted black eyes holding her.

"Are you okay—" 

Her nose smashed into his hard chest, as his arms locked around her like the steel jaws of a bear trap, squeezing her so tight she was sure he cracked a few ribs. "Ouch," she wheezed.

"Sorry," he mumbled into her hair, bent in two. His grip relaxed. 

His strength startled her, as it always did. Fear melted away. She couldn't imagine these two weeks without him. His overprotectiveness had incensed her at first, but now she felt safest in his arms. All the stress of acting and lying and glancing over her shoulder for Scorpion left her in a great rush. No more Nanami; she was Sakura again. Lightness radiated in her chest as she rose to her toes.

"Don't—"

She brushed her lips against his, stifling his protest. Untamed darkness threaded his chakra, but she didn't care. That had always been a part of him. She relished it, even as his eyes burned scarlet. The first time in the Land of Waves, they scared her: eyes of nightmare, bred for blood and destruction. But now, she saw them as apart of him, his desire. 

She coaxed him, catching his lower lip between hers as she pulled away. With a sharp exhale, he yielded. He half-carried, half-dragged her to the bed, with none of his usual grace. Sakura couldn't untie her robe quickly enough. The cotton of his shirt whispered against her skin.

His heated gaze raked down her chest. "I wanted to take that off all night."

Her lips parted. That's what he'd been thinking about during those stares? Not her rambling interrogation? "Let me put it back on for you."

He threw her onto the sheets as she giggled. His heavy weight settled over her before she could catch her breath. When he ground the hard ridge of his arousal against her center, she fell quiet.

His baritone voice ghosted the shell of her ear. "Tell me if you want to stop."

"You promised you wouldn't."

"Did I?" he asked. "I don't remember."

_Funny._ She tugged up the hem of his shirt. He threw it on the ground.

Her stomach fluttered. His broad frame was cut with muscle, cruel power stamped in every inch of his skin. Without all his wild hair, she could see all the planes of his face, starkly masculine in the soft glow of the fire light, his ember eyes glowing. He looked like a conqueror, too beautiful to touch. It figured that after thirteen years, he still gave her butterflies.

"What?"

"You look good," she mumbled.

His chin jutted, and he was _definitely_ putting on a show because there was no reason for him to lean in that slow or for his abs to be as hard as they were under her palms. But he pressed his mouth to hers, and her nerves were quelled. It was strange how comfortable they'd grown with each other since that first time on the couch. Like they'd been kissing for two lifetimes and not two weeks.

He traced the emerald lace of her bra, strewn with gold thread. "Did he give you this?"

She didn't want to think about Higa right now. "Does it matter?"

Male satisfaction filled his eyes. "No."

Her breasts were bare, the cold air of the room drawing her nipples to peaks before his searing mouth closed over her. The sharp contrast of sensation made wet heat pool between her legs. His rough palm closed over her other breast in a possessive grip.

She'd always felt a twinge of hesitation before taking her bra off with Kou. It was a silly thing to worry about, she knew. With Sasuke, there was no uncertainty; he made her feel feminine and beautiful. His fingers hooked in her underwear.

She jolted up. She drew chakra to her palm and pressed it to her navel. The lurid glow faded as warmth sunk into her belly. "It's protection," she explained, before he could worry. It'd been so long _— goodness, had it been two years?_ — the precaution had slipped her mind. She tugged her underwear off.

Sasuke paused.

"What is it?" She crossed her ankles. Did he have to gape?

"Nothing," he said quickly.

He eased her legs apart, and his hand trailed up her inner thigh, painfully slow _,_ as though he had all the time in the world. Finally, he brushed her _there._ The contact sent sparks up her spine and his breath hitched in her ear.

_This was— this was happening._

He traced her again and again, his touch featherlight, as though she were a priceless old scroll he couldn't bear to tear. Unsated need built. He was so gentle, she could scream.

She needed _firm_ and _fast_ and _now._ She nipped at the tendons of his throat, and he shuddered. He sat back.

"Show me how you come."

The command made her cheeks sting. Was he teasing her again? Aside from her first time, at peak of desperation, she only did that in the privacy of her bed.

But his face looked dead serious, and the throbbing between her legs was really quite insistent. And even as the thought made her want to dive under the covers, it piqued her curiosity. Had he imagined her doing this? The thought gave her a thrill.

If only she'd kept a few of the lamps unlit. She closed her eyes and stuck her hand between her thighs, her familiar touch at once sweet relief and a spark to dry kindling, igniting the smoldering hunger that had been building since she woke up without him, since the _saigenzai_. She cupped her breast, lost in sensation…

...until she remembered _he was watching._ Mortified, her eyes snapped open. If he was laughing at her—

_Oh._

He didn't look amused. His eyes were glued to her hand and the voracious hunger in his expression stole her breath away.

Power rushed heady through her veins.

His gaze followed her other hand to her lips as she rubbed them, and she delighted in how his throat tightened in a swallow. Heart thudding, she let her knees to fall wider. He wavered, as though he couldn't decide where to look— an unexpected departure from his usual composure. She smiled.

This was— this was _easy._

Sasuke shoved her hands off. His fingers overtook hers, and with equal parts fascination and horror, she realized he was mimicking her motion and pressure. "That's cheating," she said weakly.

He looked possessed. "What is?"

"Your _shh_ —"

Two fingers sank deep into her, and _oh,_ she'd forgotten what this felt like. His jaw clenched as he made room inside her. His thumb circled the apex of her legs and elicited a burst of pleasure so sharp she cried out. Sakura's hands fisted in the duvet when she realized just how close she was. 

A vicious glint played in his eyes. "My what?"

She was going to kill him, but in a little bit, when he wasn't doing that with those _long_ fingers, making stars flash before her eyes. He plucked her nipple when she ignored him, stretched her tighter, and— _yes, yes—_ she tipped over the edge, shockwaves of sensation ripping through her.

A blissful haze seeped through her bones, and Sakura melted into the covers. Her eyelids fluttered open in time to watch him suck his fingers clean. His blazing red eyes looked downright _feral._ Something dark unfurled in her at the wicked sight.

She found her voice. "I think— I think you should undress."

* * *

Sasuke shoved her thighs open.

Sakura said something, maybe his name, but his ears were buzzing with the flood of his old chakra, returned by the seal, and all he could think of was how illicit she tasted, how he needed it all over his tongue—

Sakura eased him up by the hair. "Please."

That was a bad idea, probably, but he was having a hard time coming up with why. She'd felt so tight around his fingers.

He kicked his pants off and palmed his length, trying to take the edge off the pain. He could feel her watching, and— how long was she going to stare? He was too pent up for this, waited too long— 

"May—"

" _Yes_ ," he snapped.

Her fingers closed around him, and his hips jerked. Her hand was soft and tiny, with none of his own ragged callouses, and when it glided up and down, experimentally, the surge of pleasure made his head fall back. He wouldn't last. 

He endured her gentle exploration another two breaths before dragging her to him. The sight of his hand spanning nearly her waist gave him pause as he notched against her entrance. 

Her hand slapped his hipbone, clearing his head. "Am I hurting you?"

"No," she said, a little choked. She stared apprehensively at where they were joined. "It's just been a while, and you're, uh…"

He looked too. Sakura's size was puzzling; in his head, they were equals. Animalistic need, stirred by the sight of him disappearing inside her, battled with his rational mind, the part of him that froze at the thought of hurting her.

"I'll go slow," he said, with more ambition than promise.

He licked a broad swath up the underside of her breast, reveling in the taste of her skin, and she rewarded him with her fingers threading his hair. He closed his teeth around her nipple, and she tugged sharply with approval. He'd let her pull his hair forever. 

"Keep going."

He inched forward. Restraint was agony, worse than the seal. He lifted his head to watch her face. Sakura's nose was scrunched up, her expression somewhere between perplexed and anticipatory.  


But she dug her heels into his back, locking him in place, and his mind snapped blank.  Sasuke shoved in her to the hilt _._

"Sorry," he muttered against her slack lips, peppering her with kisses. Her breath came in hitches as she adjusted to his size, each little twist around his cock stoking a black temptation to rut her into the mattress.

He smoothed her hair, shaking like a leaf.

He used to think her hair looked stupid. Too girly. When she'd hacked it all off during the chunin exams, he approved. But now he was convinced she'd grown it out for the sole purpose of swinging in his face while she fixed him, and that he was the stupid one. He'd go straight home from her apartment, drunk on her scent, pick out all the long pink strands on his clothes, and spend into his hand imaging what it'd feel like. Sasuke wrapped her hair around his fist— liquid silk over his skin.

"Can I?"

"Yeah."

He rocked into her slowly, lowering his head to her ear. _Tell me if it's too much,_ he tried to say, but the friction of her stretching around him— _hot slick incredible_ — muddled his words. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her mouth found his, and all the universe and dimensions seemed to collapse into her as she pulled him as close as two people could be.

It felt like a first time.

Every touch, every sensation was sharp and visceral, because it was _her._ The girl he'd known for thirteen years. He'd breathed for those fleeting moments in her kitchen, to be anywhere near this close to her. And all those times in between, when he was so starved for her touch, he was inside a stranger and weaving himself illusions of her didn't compare to reality.

How had he lived without this?

"Sakura."

"Mhm?" She hummed against his lips.

_You are loved and cherished._

"I—"

A lump formed in his throat. It'd only been two weeks. After the way he'd behaved tonight, wasn't it selfish to ask? Sex didn't mean he was entitled to her. He certainly hadn't waited. Would she still want to explore others?  Memories flooded in— her straddling Higa's chest, him gasping his release at her touch, _I'm not in love with_ _him—_

Possessiveness surged in his chest. He didn't care. If Sakura took another lover, Sasuke would burn him alive. No one would follow him. He'd _never_ share her again.

" _Sasuke_ —"

He hooked her ankle over his shoulder. Sakura clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the noises he wrested from her throat with his ruthless pace. He snatched it away and pinned her wrist to the sheets. Higa, Hyuuga— whoever the fuck came before him— he'd wipe them from her memory.

"Tell me."

He found the angle that made her lips part and drove into her, as she gasped a broken stream of _yes_ and _oh._ When he strummed her clit, her jaw fell open in a silent scream, and he took her to the razor’s edge, let her teeter and—

He released her. His hips ground to a halt. 

" _No_ ," she whined. " _Why_?"

"Tell me what you need." His voice was gravel.

Her fingers punished his hips, as she thrashed against him, desperate for traction. He pinned her still with his weight.

"You," she said. "I need you—"

He slammed into her. Her head fell back as she sobbed his name, and it was the only thing he needed to hear. Her long legs wrapped around him, hiking with each brutal snap of his hips, and she surrounded him she was everything his everything she was—

_"Mine,"_ he hissed.

Sakura's nails scored down his back as her spine arched, the sweet bite of pain whetting his hunger. He fucked her through her climax, through the otherworldly sensation of her clenching around him, her soft whimper in his ear.

Her hand trailed his back, and that familiar wave of need coursed through him— _SakurathiswasSakura_ — and his vision whited at the edges as he was dragged under the current of pleasure, groaning into her hair.

&-&-&

Sasuke wavered at the surface of consciousness, tugged under by the listless warmth of his muscles and pushed afloat by the restless whispers of his mind. Sex never felt like that, like he'd torn off a piece of himself, raw and bleeding, and shoved it in her arms to keep forever. Whatever suspicion he'd had of his attraction being purely physical were quashed.

Cold reality cut through the haze of his afterglow. When he'd imagined their first time, he was gentle, not a rutting beast. "Are you okay?"

The crackle of the oil lamp was deafening.

Dread curdled in his stomach. He’d terrorized her against the door too. She'd never want to see him again. "I didn't mean to be rough."

She shifted on the sheets, but he couldn't look at her. She would know. It was written all over his face, how he felt about her. If his muscles hadn't turned to glue, he would've left.

"What?" she asked with a yawn. “Oh, no that's— you didn't hurt me _."_

He turned to her.

"I was just, uh, surprised. That's never happened before." Drowsily, she rolled to face him, her hair falling in a curtain over her breasts. "I didn't think I could with another person."

"Could what?"

"You know." She flushed a lovely shade of red, from the roots of her hair to her chest, bruised with his kisses. " _Finish_."

He sat up, blood roaring in his ears.

She groaned. "Oh no."

The vision of her glassy-eyed and taut with ecstasy belonged to him alone. No one else. The thought shouldn't have pleased him as much as it did.

"Do you have to get competitive with everything?" she asked.

Her skin flushed with a light sheen. Her position sharpened the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips, still mottled from his grip. She didn't smell like Higa anymore, but like her and him, together.

He nudged her to her back and settled over her. Her hips opened to him on instinct, and she smiled languidly up at him. The same uncanny sense from this morning overcame him. A lightness filled his chest. She could have whoever she pleased, and she chose him. 

Sakura brushed the hair off his forehead. "Can I tell you a secret?"

_Touch me._ "What?"

Her fingers threaded through his hair, that familiar touch she'd conditioned him to crave. "You look cute when you smile."

He pressed his forehead against hers. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. "Adorab—"

He filled her in one slow thrust. A strangled noise escaped her throat.

"Rude—" she panted. "Let me finish speaking."

He rolled into her, deep and controlled, the way he'd intended to earlier. "Go ahead."

"You're— you're insufferable," Her head fell back, and her lips formed silent words. Her hand entwined in his. "—yes _, there_."

Sasuke couldn't make speeches, but if he could, he'd tell her what it meant to him, these fleeting moments together with her, with her hands on him. He'd never know a sweeter atonement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/23: I wrote the first arc of this story a long time ago, and I've always wanted to add some scenes/change POVs. As we approach the final arc, I've decided to proceed with a rewrite. Currently 3/7 chaps done and I'm sooo excited with how it's turning out. My goal is to improve the story for new readers, but to keep enough of the previous plot points that returning readers won't have to go back and re-read. This does mean the next update might take a few weeks, so thank you for your patience 🙏 I'm posting sneak peaks of the re-write on my [ tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/never--stray) , feel free to follow me! Thanks for reading as always :D


	16. Firedamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura and Sasuke trade secrets; Sakura returns to a familiar place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back frands! I was blown away by the feedback for Ch 15 🥺 A couple of updates:  
> 1\. I rewrote the first ~8 ch of this fic (bc I am nuts). Ch 1 & 5 are written from scratch but none of the major plot points have changed if you're caught up :)  
> 2\. I made a [banner](https://never--stray.tumblr.com/post/642424738606678016/duplicity-ch-16) for twitter lol. Chicken nuggz if ya recognize the show Higa's from 8)

The oil lamps casted flickering shadows across the bedroom. Sakura frowned absently at what appeared to be a deep crack in her bedpost. It looked as though someone had taken an axe to it, but that couldn't be right. She shrugged and resumed toweling her hair. _Must be a trick of the light._

The shower quieted and anticipation bubbled. Would Sasuke spend the night? She hoped he would. He guarded his emotions more closely than anyone she knew. When he allowed himself to be vulnerable, it was in fleeting instants, tiny breaks in the impenetrable walls he'd constructed around his heart. But tonight, he'd completely let go.

Sakura settled under the covers and happily wiggled her toes. His intensity had startled her at first. She knew he was holding back, but not how _much_. He also had a bit of a ruthless streak in bed that at once rankled her nerves and tempted her into complicity. But she liked having his undivided attention, watching his unfiltered reactions. Her only regret was inflating his ego to astronomical proportions, if his behavior before he'd strutted into the washroom was anything to go by.

He stepped out of the steamy bathroom, holding out the _saigenzai_ jar. "Can I dump this?"

Her cheeks tinged at his lack of clothing. "Yeah."

He turned, and the state of his back made her want to sink into the depths of the Earth. Apparently, _she'd_ let go of all her restraint as well.

"Your back," she said, drawing chakra to her palm. "Let me get that."

He glanced in the foggy mirror, and his muscles rippled under the wanton red scratches. To her horror, he looked pleased. "Leave it."

"It'd take a second _,"_ she said, flabbergasted. 

He dodged her glowing hand like it was a poisonous snake and picked up his shirt. 

"Are you leaving?" The question came out needier than she would've liked.

He looked at her strangely. "Do you want me to?"

"No," she said. "Of course not." 

He folded the shirt and extinguished all the lamps in the room. The mattress dipped under his heavy weight as he slid under the covers with her. He left room between them, and the temptation to inch closer and nestle against his bare skin arose. She closed her eyes, and a memory welled up, one she hadn't known she was carrying at the bottom of her heart.

_Forget it. It meant nothing, Sakura._

A faint twinge of hurt arose. _No, that was over_ , she consoled herself. Things were different between the two of them. He'd held her so tightly and called her his. That terrible distance that plagued them for years was gone, and it would never come back. "Can I tell you another secret?" she whispered.

"Hn."

"I don't actually give my address out," she said. "The only patients I see in my apartment are you and Naruto." It was _really_ only him. Naruto took hits like a tank and rarely needed her.

The covers shifted. "You told me to go to your apartment," he said.

"I know. It was an excuse," she said. "That first time, I was going to ask you to stay for dinner, to catch up, but I chickened out."

"Why?"

"I thought you'd say no," she mumbled. "I meant it to be a one time thing, but you showed up at my door the next time, and the time after that…" Eventually, they'd settled into an easy routine with her kitchen table for exams.

"You never said anything," he said, with a hint of accusation. "It's been four years."

"That long?" Sakura laughed sheepishly. "You know, I used to clean the whole apartment before you came over. Do you remember that big crate of supplies in the living room? I'd haul it all back from the hospital in case you needed a special cast or something—"

"Why would you do all that?"

Sakura faltered. "You seemed uncomfortable in the hospital, and… I liked having you to myself, even if it was for a little while." 

His breath stilled. The trees rustled in the breeze outside, and Sakura drew the covers higher, grateful for the cover of darkness. How strange that the man lying inches away once felt so unreachable that she'd needed an excuse to see him. Did he feel deceived or off-put? Maybe he would've preferred the clinic.

"You always made _nabe_ ," he said, finally.

Her shoulders relaxed. "Yeah.”

The timbre of his voice changed. "Is that the only thing you can cook?"

Sakura sputtered, affronted that he'd guessed the truth so easily. "E-excuse me?"

"Boiling everything."

"Well what can you make then?"

"Everything.”

"No you can't." She rolled onto his chest. Sasuke’s lips were half quirked, and his charcoal eyes were infuriatingly smug. "Prove it. Make me dinner when we get back," she taunted.

"Hn." His hand swept down the curve of her spine to her bottom. He cupped it brazenly. "What do I get in return?" The words vibrated through his chest, flush against hers.

She stifled a shudder. "I'll waive your bills."

"What bills?" His fingers wandered into dangerous territory.

She pulled his hand off. "For my services. Did you think you were getting free treatment all these years?" 

"Sounds expensive," he drawled.

"Very. I'd make it a good dinner if I were you, or you'll be indebted to me forever," she chided.

"Forever."

She nodded gravely.

A lazy smile split his lips. "Alright."

Sakura rolled on her back to hide her stinging cheeks. Would she ever get used to that? Under the covers, his calloused hand found hers. Her breaths deepened to the silent lullaby that his thumb rubbed into the back of her hand.

"I turned twenty-two this year," he said.

"I know," she mumbled. "July twenty-third."

"Itachi was twenty-one. He died a month before his birthday. Now I'm older."

Sakura opened her eyes. Sasuke picked absently at a corner of the pillowcase. "You're still his little brother, even if he's not here with us." She reached over to thread her fingers through his hair, tracing her fingernails along his scalp. "He'd have wanted you to celebrate."

He leaned into her touch. "That was a bad secret," he said.

"No, it wasn't."

His face softened. "You remind me of him."

"Of your _brother_?" She pretended to be aghast, but secretly, she was delighted."Is it the voice or the hair?" 

His gaze lowered. "It's these, actually." He tweaked her nipples, knowing full well he'd sucked them raw.

" _Stop_ ," she squealed. She batted at his wandering hands, playfully at first, then in earnest when his eyes darkened with renewed hunger. While he had boundless energy with no apparent need for sleep, she was a mere mortal. "Good _night_ ," she said firmly.

He made a disgruntled noise and folded her into his chest. Under the covers and his heavy arm, it felt like being locked in a furnace, but Sakura didn't mind. He was so affectionate. She wished she could keep him like this forever.

* * *

Sakura woke to the silk damask canopy overhead and a lingering scent of pine and rain. The bed was empty.

She pulled the curtains open with a twinge of disappointment. Light flooded the room. It was early morning. His clothes were gone, and all the dresses in her closet were neatly folded into an open suitcase at the foot of the bed.

He'd helped her pack and left?

She glanced around the room for a note. The paper lantern caught her eye from the table, almost exactly where she'd left it. Almost, because she could've sworn she'd left it on its side, not upright.

She approached it, unease building. The rice paper looked dirty and stained, and a strange silhouette casted shadows from within. She peeked inside and saw… dirt. The lantern was filled with dirt. The stone buried at the center made her stomach drop.

A slab of grey limestone, glinting with yellow-green flecks.

_Ore._

Sakura threw on clothes and ran to Sasuke's room. She burst through the door at the same time that Sai climbed through the window.

"Did he—"

"I thought he was with you," Sai said. "I was watching Higa."

Sakura's heart sank. "I found this in my room."

Sai turned the stone over. "Is this from Higa?"

"I don't think so. I found it in a lantern he bought me last night. He wouldn't have had time." Higa was occupied the whole night. "I think it's from Scorpion." Someone must've broken into her room while they were interrogating Higa. Between creating the _saigenzai_ and returning to her bedroom, he'd had an hour at most. He had to have spies in the complex to have made such a narrow window.

"You didn't notice this last night?" Sai asked incredulously.

"I—uh the room was dark. I went to bed early." She'd spare him the gory details.

"Do you think it's a warning?"

Sakura shook her head. "Scorpion knows I took the puppet body. He's worried I know his secret." He'd maintained anonymity this long with his corpse reanimation technique. He wouldn't let her go with that knowledge. "He also knows that I can't let him kill Higa. I think it's a challenge."

"For a rematch?" Sai asked. "You think he's prepared another puppet already?"

"Or him in the flesh," Sakura said. She hoped for the latter. "Can you tell if Sasuke-kun is close by?"

Sai unfurled his scroll on the floor. A dozen ink mice from the corners of the room and onto the blank page. His chakra flared and black kana appeared. He read the kana. "He's not on the estate grounds."

 _As she'd feared._ "I'm going to go after him." Sakura said. Sasuke must've found the lantern while packing. Scorpion meant to snag her but he lured the wrong person.

"Go where?"

"To the mine."

"To _Aizu?"_ Sai's eyes widened. "How do you know he's there?"

Sakura nodded at the rock. "That's crystal gem ore. He knows I was there three days ago." Riku had made sure of it. "Do you think it's a bad idea?"

"Sasuke can handle himself."

"I just have a bad feeling about all this." Sakura bit her lip. "Why would Sasuke-kun disappear without letting either of us know?" After all that happened last night…

Sai didn't look convinced. "Shikamaru and his team are getting in tonight. We should regroup and decide together."

She looked at Sai. Her _last_ conversation with the two of them about Sasuke had ended with her in tears while Shikamaru bluntly informed her that he would proceed to kill him, with or without her consent. She bit her tongue. "Sasuke-kun tested his seal last night," she said.

Sai's brows furrowed. "Did you fix it?"

"I can't."

"You gave it to him."

His tone was neutral but she flinched. "I only attached the arm. Tsunade-sama created the seal out of this old technique from her clan archives for subjugating Uchiha prisoners of war." How Tsunade managed to interpret a two hundred year old scroll was the real mystery. "She said the seal only works on members of the Uchiha clan, and only members of the Senju clan can remove it."

"What happens if it breaks?" Sai asked.

Dread curled in her stomach. "The Senju chakra within the seal leaks out, mixes with Uchiha chakra and initiates massive cell death."

 _A death seal._ When she performed the surgery, she never thought it would come to this.

Sai read her mind. "You did what you had to for the safety of the village. Don't hold yourself responsible for the consequences of his decisions."

"I _knew_ he wasn't dangerous—"

"The villagers didn't. That seal gave them peace of mind. It's what let him walk free in public. If you'd refused, the council would've come up with something else." The steely glint in Sai's eyes softened. "I don't want to repeat the past. The last time I let you chase him…"

Sakura's cheeks tinged, recalling the disappointment in his eyes when she'd thrown those sleep bombs on Lee and Kiba. "Do you think he'd hurt me?"

"Not intentionally, but he has a reputation in ANBU."

"Really?" Sasuke's work life was a mystery to her. "For what?"

"The genin call him Okami the Cold-Hearted."

She cackled. "That's so lame."

"That's the way he is. He was on my team for three years. He doesn't act like this."

Sakura thought of how tenderly he'd kissed her last night, and how petulant he'd looked when she swatted him off. Sasuke wasn't cold at all. She steeled her resolve. "Back then in the forest, I wasn't thinking. I should've listened to you and Kakashi-sensei. But this is different. He's not a fugitive anymore— he's our teammate."

"I know," he said, sounding conflicted.

"If something happens to him—" _the unthinkable_ "—and I did nothing, I'd never forgive myself. I can't lose him again."

Sai's jaw clenched. He'd changed over the years too. Probably the only shinobi that had _softened_ over the years in ANBU, a testament to his childhood in Root.

"If anything goes wrong, I'll send Katsuyu," she promised.

He sighed, and she knew she won. Relief blossomed in Sakura's chest. His regard for Sasuke must've been higher than he let on. "I can fly you two miles out, but you'll have to run after that."

"Does that mean you're not coming with me?" she joked half-heartedly.

"We have to sign out to the new team tonight. _One_ of us has to stay and finish the mission," he said, miffed.

"Thanks." Sakura pulled him into a hug, smiling when he stiffened like a board. "You're a good friend."

He indulged her a second longer than she'd expected. "Be careful, Hag."

* * *

The Aizu mountain pass was unrecognizable.

The road was freshly paved with cement, the moss and lichen cleared away. Steel safety nets draped the precipitous rock walls as far down as Sakura could see. She followed the hand-drawn signs to the mine, hair rising on the back of her neck with each step. It had been less than four days since she'd last crossed this path. The Iwa-nin must be laboring day and night.

So where was everyone?

The road was silent and barren. No activity, no equipment. Ahead, the mouth of the pass was cleared of boulders. Sakura ran faster, ears straining for sounds of battle.

She'd spent the journey through the tundra planning. Scorpion intended to kill her; _how_ was the question. The more she thought about it, the less likely it was that a criminal who'd spent years safeguarding his identity and hiding behind corpses would brazenly decide to face her in battle. More likely, he'd pick something indirect, something that wouldn't risk injury to his real body.

There were three possibilities: one, a field trap, like grenades or explosive tags; two, an ambush from a band of hired mercenaries; or three— what she feared the most— an army of undead puppets, risen with the power of crystal gem.

An army… or something else.

Sasuke could handle the first two. But the last one worried her. Who knew _what_ Scorpion could do with that sort of power. Sakura burst through the wooden gateway marking the entrance to the Aizu mine.

Her blood chilled.

Bodies littered the construction site; the closest was twenty feet away, face-down on pallid stone dark with blood, the furthest so small, she could barely make them out in the glare of the morning sun. Pickaxes and hammers lay scattered at their side. The pit itself was formed of five concentric rings, two hundred feet wide, each dug deeper into the earth. At the center stood the looming head-frame, shaped like the letter _'A'_ , a tether for the mineshaft elevator.

A man stood amidst the carnage.

She recognized his posture, even from halfway across the pit. "Sasuke-kun!" Although his sword was drawn, he looked uninjured. Relief blossomed in her chest as she hopped down into the pit. "What happened?" she asked. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah. It was an ambush."

Sakura glanced around, wary for a stray twitch from the dead men scattered across the excavation pit. "Where is he? Scorpion."

"Gone." Sasuke closed onto her. His expression caught her off-guard: stony and blank. Not a flicker of his affection from last night remained.

"Why didn't you say anything before you left? I was so worried," she said.

"I didn't want to bother you." As he approached, Sakura's sense of unease grew. She could see a faint mark on his throat from last night, but his shirt was in pristine condition, and _Kusanagi_ glinted in the high noon sun, without a speck of blood.

"Thanks," she said, forcing a casual tone. "I'll start sealing the corpses." She circled around him, and he did not stop her.

She knelt by a man. He had been in his twenties, and his taupe uniform was stained red with blood. She glanced inside— flail chest, a bludgeoning wound. No headband, and he held a clipboard in his hand. Not a shinobi. One of Kaede's contractors.

_The missing crew._

Sasuke watched her every move from above, unmoving. Cold sweat beaded her skin. She stood on the third ring. Her target was dead center of the fifth ring, four hundred feet away.

The mineshaft.

There were a trail of bodies ending at the foot of the head-frame; she'd pretend to follow along, hopping through like lily pads on a pond. _She could make it._ "Hey, Sasuke-kun, do you remember our last day of Academy?"

"That was years ago."

"I still think about it though." She lowered herself into the fourth ring— another civilian body. Her stomach clenched. "I can't believe I got to be on the same team as you."

She formed the hand signs for the repossession justu and raised her voice to carry. "That afternoon when you found me at recess, I was so happy. Did you know I had the biggest crush on you?" She clicked the scroll shut. She was standing at the edge of the fourth ring. The head-frame loomed overhead. _So close._ "Do you remember what you told me?" she asked.

"Yes." His voice was unnervingly close. He hadn't sheathed his sword.

Slowly, Sakura squatted behind the final body and lowered her weapons pouch to the ground. She slipped her hand inside. "Do you still think of me that way?"

"Of course," he snapped. "Let's go. We're wasting time here—"

Her smoke bomb detonated in his face. Sakura leapt through the hazy purple smog and bolted straight for the mineshaft. Her nightmarish suspicion at the Devil's Door had come true. _A living puppet._ She had to get into the mine and stop Scorpion.

_Two hundred feet away…_

—the head-frame shadowed the ground. She could see the mine elevator—

_Fifty feet…_

—footsteps thundered at her back, but she didn't dare turn around—

_Twenty feet—_

The air behind her shifted. Sakura darted aside. An iron pickaxe careened past her ear, ramming the foot of the head-frame with a terrible clang.

She turned. No one in sight. Another shift, and bloodstained mining tools scattered around the site levitated as though held up by invisible strings.

_Jiton._

Sakura redoubled her efforts, bolting towards the elevator. _So close, nearly at the door_ —

A hideous, bestial groan rang through the mountain pass. Anchor bolts the size of her arm unscrewed themselves from the earth. The ground quaked, the iron frame around her shook, and with a great jerk, the entire head-frame surged from the ground. Sakura dove out from under a shower of dirt and rubble. She blinked the grit from her eyes and with horror, took in the head-frame frozen in the sky like a terrible steel bird, blocking out the sun.

With the force of a meteor, it crashed to the ground. The impact knocked her to her feet and thick, rolling clouds of dust muddied the air. A figure lunged at her through the haze.

Sakura rolled out. His punch pulverized the ground where she laid.

Sasuke straightened. Yellow silt coated his hair and skin, but he didn't seem to notice. His foot slid back into a fighting stance. "What gave me away?" he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I use this AO3 skin that tells you how long a fic takes to read and we just hit 3hrs 23 min which is crazy to me bc y'all could've watched Pride and Prejudice 1.5x with that time but you read my story instead 🥺🥺🥺  
> 2/17: I illustrated [the first scene](https://never--stray.tumblr.com/post/643428577647411200/wait-for-the-signal-and-ill-meet-you-after-dark) for a Tswift twitter event
> 
> Source:  
> [what Sas told her](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/99/57/e2/9957e2b08fd61886a73f8ee018e1463e.png)


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